


Kiss the Cook

by inb4invert, SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Food Service, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cell Phones, Chef Original Percival Graves, Chefs, Comfort Food, Cooking, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Declarations Of Love, Dom/sub Undertones, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endearments, Falling In Love, Feeding, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Food, Food Issues, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Jealousy, Kissing, Kitchen Aid Credence Barebone, Kitchen Sex, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Slash, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Original Percival Graves, Protective Original Percival Graves, Protectiveness, Public Display of Affection, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Restaurants, Rimming, Romance, Sappy, Slash, Slow Burn, Strength Kink, Teasing, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Texting, Touch-Starved, Touching, Wet & Messy, Workaholic Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-05-31 18:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19431391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inb4invert/pseuds/inb4invert, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: Credence needs a job, but more than that, he needs afriend.Is his new Head Chef, Mr. Graves, really the "dragon" everyone says he is? Or is there a knight hiding underneath the scales?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 

The voice on the phone was nice: low and mellow--and under less nerve-wracking circumstances, Credence might've been tempted to simply listen to its timbre if he could. But he was the one who had to do the talking here, and that was the real problem. 

"Eclipse restaurant and bar, Graves speaking." 

For a panicked second or two, Credence simply fumbled with the phone; a birthday gift from Newt and Jacob, and the only reason he was able to make this call in the first place. He was grateful to them for the little window of freedom clutched to the side of his head, and he would be even more grateful if that bit of freedom led to something greater. Namely: a job. 

“This is Credence. Barebone. I… my name is Credence Barebone.” He closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. “I’m calling about the kitchen aid job, Mr G-Graves.” Taking a deep breath, he ventured onwards, with difficulty. “My friends work f-for you and… and suggested that I might call you about it.” What was left of his breath wooshed out between his lips, and he imagined himself losing this job before he had even set foot inside the restaurant.

"Yes. Mr. Barebone." It was spoken as simple as fact, no inflection that Credence could grab and hold onto. "I was told to expect your call, as it happens." 

"Oh?" It came out on a rising note. Credence should have known, of course he should've, but somehow he hadn't _expected_ to be expected. His sense of performance anxiety deepened, even without having been hired yet. Already he was worried about failing this man, knowing his call had been waited on.

"Of course, yeah… Can I ask, has the position already been filled?" 

“No, it hasn’t, Mr. Barebone. Tell me, how much experience have you had?”

It occurred to Credence that he was woefully under-prepared for this phone call. “Experience, sir?”

There was a sigh, probably of impatience. “Kitchen experience.”

“Oh! Of course. Um… I’ve been helping out in my foster mother’s soup kitchen?” Credence cringed a little, knowing full well that this was hardly impressive.

"And did any of this 'helping out' involve prep cooking? Because that's what we're hiring for. A prep cook." 

"Prep cooking?" Hearing himself, Credence had the mad impulse to just hang up. But he couldn't do that. What would be even tell Jacob and Newt? And besides, he needed work, more than anything else. He would just have to cross his fingers and suck it up, however stupid he sounded. 

"Yes, prep cook. Like… chopping vegetables, grinding meat. Getting things ready for the cooks to cook it. Prep as in 'preparation.' You know what that is, right?" 

He explained it as though speaking to a child, and his inference was loud and clear: Credence didn't seem to know much about preparation at all, if this phone call was anything to judge by. He didn't blame Mr. Graves for being skeptical. Bad idea or not, hanging up was growing in appeal by the second.

“Mr. Barebone, if--”

“Yes,” Credence said, too loudly. “Yes, sorry. I…” He sighed deeply, thinking the man was liable to hang up on him, at this rate. “Mr. Graves, I’m sorry. I’ve done those things. Well… not grinding meat, my ma doesn’t serve up any, really, but the rest of it. I’ve done that. I know how. I’m just nervous. I’ve never… I’ve never had a job before, and I don’t really know what to do or say when applying for one, but I really, really need this.” He took a deep breath, having run out of air entirely, and finished meekly, “Please give me a chance, Mr. Graves?”

He sat with his eyes closed while waiting for a response he was sure would be negative. How could it not be? He was hopeless at everything, ma told him so daily. It stood to reason he would be just as hopeless at getting a job that might eventually enable him to get away from her. Expecting the sound of the call being ended, it took him by surprise when he heard Mr. Graves’ voice again.

“I can’t give you any guarantees, Mr. Barebone, and I’m not exactly impressed with your background.”

“No, sir,” Credence agreed sadly.

“However, if you do need this job so desperately, I suppose I can give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Credence blinked. “Mr. Graves, you mean… you mean I can… try?”

“You’ll have to do better than try,” Mr. Graves said. “I expect punctuality, precision, and efficiency from the entire kitchen staff. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir, absolutely.” Credence was clutching his phone so hard, it might have been a lifeline. “I won’t disappoint you.”

"Newt Scamander spoke very highly of you," Mr. Graves finally answered. "Be grateful for your friends, they're the ones who've given you this opportunity more than anything. We're short staffed and I don't have time to be choosey here as long as you're prepared to make it work." 

"I am, I will." Credence blurted it out almost before the man was finished speaking, and he shrunk into himself again reflexively. "Thank you, Mr. Graves." 

"Yes, well. We'll see you tomorrow, then. Eight a.m. sharp." 

With that, he hung up the call, leaving Credence breathing into a dead line and hardly believing his good fortune. 

***

That evening, Credence volunteered to chop _all_ the vegetables--from the half wilted, bendy carrots to the sprouting potatoes--ensuring he didn’t throw away even one single scrap of usable food. Mary Lou kept a suspicious eye on him, but couldn’t find anything on which to fault him. Chastity was grateful enough for his eagerness to give him what could almost be called a smile.

He finished the chopping in record time, awarding himself a point for efficiency. As Mary Lou accepted the bowls of evenly sliced vegetables without a murmur of complaint, he gave himself another for precision. This left him with punctuality; something which shouldn’t present a problem, considering his foster mother did not believe in anyone under her roof sleeping past sunrise.

Before bed, he went through his meagre wardrobe, ending up with a faded pair of once-black trousers, a white shirt frayed around the collar, and a sense of impending doom. Mr. Graves had made it clear that his expectations were high, and he was unlikely to put up with sloppily dressed employees. As it was, Credence was filled with dread about his first day, even if it was accompanied by an undercurrent of anticipation.

Mr. Graves had been stern, serious and far from encouraging, and yet, Credence couldn’t help but remember the warm quality of his voice as much as his words. He was determined to do well for him, and to work harder than anyone else at Eclipse. Mr. Graves would not regret hiring him. 

***

Credence woke at dawn without need of an alarm clock, as per his lifelong custom. Well, at least so long as he'd lived with Mary Lou--anything that came before that was just a haze of blurred impressions. 

His tattered clothes were laid out over his single chair where he'd left them the night before, and looking them over one last time, he sighed. Even though he'd never even seen the man, Credence couldn't help but imagine that Mr. Graves had never worn something so plain and threadbare in his whole life. Somehow, without understanding it, the voice on the phone had even sounded well-dressed. After the phone call (which he still couldn't believe had somehow ended in success), the idea of presenting himself to his new chef looking so sub-par had his nerves twisted up in knots worse than ever. 

In the shower, he let out a few tears under the safety of the warm spray, so certain his appearance alone would ruin everything and yet more determined than ever to make the most of this chance fate had given him.

When it finally came time to dress himself, he pulled on and buttoned each piece as if he were on his way to the gallows rather than his first day at a new job. Thinking on it, perhaps the gallows would've been slightly better: at least then there'd be a last meal to look forward to. As it was, there was nothing for him to sustain himself on beyond the ever-present smell of boiled vegetables that lingered throughout the lower floor of the house. His stomach growled as he slipped out the door, with no chance of easing his hunger; the only money he had was the two dollars and fifty cents he'd snuck away for the bus fare to Eclipse. 

He arrived at the restaurant at a quarter to eight, and took a moment to admire the elegant black and white Art Deco sign bearing its name. He was just wondering whether to try the front entrance or look for a staff entrance around the back, when Jacob got off the bus at the stop right behind him.

“Hey, buddy! You did it. The dragon hired you.”

There was a note of surprise in his voice, and Credence couldn’t blame him. “Yes, though I don’t know how. That was the worst phone call of my life!” He didn’t question the ‘dragon’ nickname, though it certainly didn’t do anything to reassure him. “Thanks for putting in a good word for me.”

Jacob grinned and patted his back. “That’s okay. Don’t mind Graves. You’ll get used to his terrifying ways. He expects one hundred percent from everyone, but two hundred percent from himself. Doesn’t know how to relax or be friendly and casual.”

Credence tried to smile. He was used to being snapped at and worse, far worse, if he put a foot wrong. Or even for no reason at all.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t scare you.” Jacob, looking a little guilty, started walking around the side of the building, past the vast, tinted windows. “Let’s get you inside and ready to get straight to work, so he can’t find any fault with you.”

“Okay.” Credence, sure there was plenty Mr. Graves could still find wrong with him, followed Jacob through the back door and down a corridor with numerous lockers and a couple of rooms leading off it; one held linens--tablecloths, tea towels, caps and aprons. He took the apron and cap Jacob picked out for him.

“Put those on. At the end of your shift, just drop them in the big hamper and get a fresh set tomorrow.” Jacob then showed him where to find the bathrooms, Mr. Graves’ office, and the break room.

Newt arrived a few minutes later, along with several other staff members, and Credence was introduced to everyone. He got a warmer reception than he was used to anywhere, and had very nearly forgotten about the knots in his stomach, until he heard Mr. Graves’ voice.

“Morning, everyone. I hope this isn’t a meeting to plan a mutiny. Why is no one in the kitchen yet?”

Credence’s heart dropped when, with numerous muttered greetings and apologies, the small crowd parted like the Red Sea at Moses’ bidding. He forced himself not to lower his eyes, but to meet the stern gaze directed at him from across the room. His throat went so dry, he couldn’t manage so much as a peep.

Mr. Graves didn’t speak either; he just stared at him, assessing him the way a botanist might assess a new and very strange species. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strange and surprised, though Credence could hardly judge, at that point. “You’re Credence Barebone?”

“Yes, Mr. Graves, sir.” Credence swallowed in an attempt to make speech easier. “Reporting for duty, sir.”

There was a chuckle from someone, and a minute twitch of the corner of Mr. Graves’ mouth. “This isn’t the army, Credence.”

“Could have fooled me,” Jacob muttered quietly, to Credence’s horror.

“My hearing is perfectly functional, Jacob. Get to work, and the same goes for the rest of you.”

Jacob gave Credence a grin as he walked past him, and Newt squeezed his arm encouragingly.

Credence stood frozen in place, clutching the apron and cap in a white-knuckled grip. He watched in rising panic as the laundry room slowly emptied, leaving him alone with Mr. Graves, who slowly crossed the distance between them. It wasn’t until the man stood right in front of him that Credence noticed the warmth of the brown eyes beneath the stern and rather impressive brows, and the softness to the lips which had nearly, very nearly, smiled a few moments ago.

Mr. Graves, dressed impeccably and casually chic, was looking him over again, and Credence felt like a street urchin dragged right out of the gutter. “Better put on that apron and cap. You’re not allowed inside the kitchen without those.”

“Yes, Mr. Graves.” Credence hurried to obey, growing more flustered with each moment that he couldn’t remember how to tie a knot behind his back or how to make the cap stay put on his curls.

“That cap’s too small.” Mr. Graves plucked it off his head and casually flung it into the hamper right across the room, then took another one off the shelf. “Try this one.”

“Thank you.” The second cap stayed put, and Credence returned to his efforts on the apron.

Mr. Graves snickered. “Turn around.”

Credence gulped and obeyed, dropping his trembling hands at his sides. It took moments for Mr. Graves to tie a knot in the apron strings, but it seemed like a lifetime. Credence stood with his eyes closed, exasperated with himself and confused by Mr. Graves’ helpfulness, to say nothing of the warmth of his hands and the gentle pressure of his knuckles brushing against the small of his back repeatedly; Credence’s shirt was woefully thin.

“Thank you, sir.” His voice came out in a nervous rasp. Deciding to meet his fate, he turned around to meet Mr. Graves’ eyes, which looked nearly as confused as Credence felt.

"Don't mention it," Mr. Graves answered softly. Then, his voice grew a little firmer. "You got that one for free. Being able to tie one's apron is a bare minimum around here as far as performance goes." He gestured towards the door with a business-like sweep of his hand, and Credence gulped. "Now, get on in there and let's see how you do." 

"Yes, sir." Credence was already ducking his way towards the door to the kitchen, eager to prove himself. But even more than that, he was anxious to escape the crackling tension he felt under that scrutinizing gaze, if only for a few minutes. The familiar company of his friends seemed like an oasis then--a home base where he could hopefully breathe a little easier. 

"And Credence--" Mr. Graves spoke at his back. 

Credence turned, one hand on the doorframe. "Yes, sir?" 

That almost-smile twitched at the man's lips again. "You aren't required to call me sir. Like I said, this isn't the army. But, if you keep it up… well, I'm not complaining. We could do with a little more of that protocol around here. " 

The surprised smile broke out on Credence's face before he even felt it coming. He might've fumbled just about everything he could manage to so far, but he'd got this one right, it seemed. Mr. Graves was pleased with him for something, and not only that, he'd already compared him favourably against his co-workers for it. Suddenly it seemed like maybe things were going to be okay, after all. 

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The title was a reflexive one, something he'd have said to any man in a senior position. Now it felt… different, knowing his new boss liked it. Something special between them that he could hold onto. He'd never been singled out for praise over such a simple thing before and he was pretty certain he liked the sensation as much as Mr. Graves liked hearing him say it. 

***

Walking into the kitchen was like entering a small hurricane, or maybe a three ring circus teeming with constant motion and sound. And _scent_. His stomach growled again, this time with a little twist and for the first time in his life he was grateful for how accustomed he was to ignoring his hunger in the midst of preparing food. Only now there was one significant difference, a crucial one he could use to motivate himself well beyond any physical complaints: he was getting paid for it. 

Newt saw him enter the kitchen and waved him over, ready to start his training. Credence made his way to him, dodging like a startled mouse past cooks and busboys burdened with trays lifted high. Halfway through the massive room, one narrowly missed colliding with him as he avoided another, cursing under his breath and leaving Credence apologizing profusely. 

Once he was safely next to his friend, Newt smiled in sympathy. "Welcome to the brunch rush," he said in his soft spoken accent. "How are you with eggs?" 

“I know how to fry or boil them,” Credence said.

“What about poaching?”

Credence gave him a shocked look. “I would never--!”

Newt laughed. “That’s not what I meant. Here, watch…”

Credence paid close attention to every step of the process, at least until he felt a strange warmth crawling over the back of his bent neck and knew he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder and met Mr. Graves’ eyes; the man was giving verbal instructions to one of the cooks, but he was looking at Credence. Heat rushed into his cheeks, even as he told himself firmly his boss was just keeping an eye on him, and ensuring he didn’t set the kitchen on fire on his first day.

“He’s keeping an awfully close watch on you,” Newt mused.

Credence tore his eyes away and stared into the water bubbling away on the stove as if he was scrying; a glimpse into the future would definitely be helpful. “I don’t blame him for not trusting me in his kitchen.”

“You’ll be fine, Credence. Just pay close attention to all your instructions and don’t get distracted.”

“I’m trying, Newt.” Credence quickly looked back again. Mr. Graves’ eyes were still on him but, this time, he quickly averted them and walked away towards the ovens.

In the end, Credence wound up chopping close to a mountain of vegetables and chives for the endless orders of omelettes, hashbrowns and eggs benedict that came into the kitchen at a steady pace. Not only was Eclipse a popular spot to eat, but the kitchen had to keep up with all of the room service orders as well. 

Whisking anything hadn't been his particular strong suit: at one point he'd even lost his grip and sent a bowl of pancake batter skittering over the floor to a chorus of muttered curses and groans from the various line cooks.

Newt had quickly soothed his nearly tearful apologies over the incident, changing tack and handing him something else to do instead. Once it became apparent he could chop and dice like a veritable machine, a sort of calm came over the rest of the crew and Credence found himself even smiling once or twice at the (often very rough) banter that filled the air around him. It was easy to get into a rhythm, he found, working in sync with the other staff in a way that wiped the hours straight off the clock like a spot of grease. 

Only once in a while he ventured a glance towards the chef, never quite able to put the man entirely out of his mind. Each time, he'd been frowning--nearly scowling, really, in concentration--and at least a few of those times the scowl had been pointed in Credence's direction. The attention only urged him to work even harder, and before he knew it, four hours had gone past and it was suddenly noon. 

Almost as if on cue, Credence glanced up at the clock on the far wall and immediately swooned with the sudden movement. For a chilling moment, his vision went dark, filled with a kaleidoscope of sparkling motion. When it returned again, he discovered he'd set the knife down amidst the piles of green onion he'd been hurriedly working at and was holding the edge of the cutting table in a white-knuckled grip. He had just long enough to see the look of questioning concern on Newt's face when he felt a hand encircle the back of his arm with a decisive tug. 

Newt went about as pale as Credence imagined he must look himself. He turned his head to see who it was, somehow certain he already knew, and there was Mr. Graves, glowering down at him with a tight set to his jaw. 

"Come with me," he said and started leading Credence away from his station without waiting for a response. As he was pulled away, he saw Newt and Jacob turn their gazes down as though fearing they might be next if they weren't careful. 

A few moments later, Credence found himself propped halfway sitting on a wooden crate in a storage room filled with the pungent scent of onions, just off to the side of the kitchen. Mr. Graves stood before him, sizing him up with a frown somehow growing impossibly deeper as though he expected Credence already knew what he'd done wrong and was only waiting for him to confess to it first. 

"Credence," he finally said. "I don't know what you're trying to prove here, but I'm sure you've proven it." 

"I'm sorry…. what?" It was all he could manage through his light-headed perplexity. 

Mr. Graves let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, you wanted the job, you wanted to show everyone you could do it, and you've done that. Flying colours, okay?" 

"O… okay. Thank you?" 

"Jesus Christ kid, you can prep just fine but I can't have you in here working yourself into a literal faint." 

At Credence's hangdog look, Mr. Graves raised his brows and started to nod. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I saw that, and I'm sure so did half the kitchen. You know you could hurt yourself in a place like this if you're not careful? Or someone else?" 

"I'm sorry Mr. Graves" he whispered. "It won't happen again." 

Another sigh, this one heavier than the last. "Look, you're not… you're not in trouble. It's just… what is it? A blood sugar thing? Shit, you don't have a habit of some kind, do you?"

"No!" Credence blurted out, scandalized at the very thought. "No, Mr. Graves, I…. I just was so nervous earlier today and I couldn't really, I mean I didn't really eat breakfast and the time just got away from me…" 

Mr. Graves looked appalled. “You didn’t have breakfast?” When Credence shook his head, he took a deep breath. Then another one. “You mean to tell me you thought it a good idea to come in for your first day of work, in a _kitchen_ , where you were to work with sharp knives, hot oil and any number of implements you’re probably unfamiliar with, _on an empty stomach_?”

“I’m so sorry,” Credence said pitifully. “I just couldn’t eat.”

Mr. Graves was silent for a few moments, then he walked away, and Credence was so sure he had left because he was on the verge of losing his temper with him, he found himself wondering whether he would be punished here as well as at home.

“Credence.”

He looked up and stared. Mr. Graves stood in front of him bearing a plate piled high with Brunch #3: Spanish omelette with Chorizo sausage, red and green bell peppers, spring onions and toast. His stomach growled embarrassingly.

“You’re not going to move from that box until you’ve eaten this,” Mr. Graves told him in a voice that brooked no argument. “I don’t want to see you back in the kitchen until you’re stable on your feet and won’t be a danger to yourself and the rest of my staff, do you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Credence hurried to obey, taking the heavy plate. “But--”

“You get the same lunch break and the same free meal per shift as everyone else, but I expect you to eat breakfast from now on, so you don’t pass out before you get to it.”

Credence was about to say he would try, when the rest of the statement sank in. “Mr. Graves, I don’t understand… I get free food once a day? For working here?”

“Yes. It’s standard in the gastronomy business.” Mr. Graves looked baffled by Credence’s surprise.

“Food like… this?” Credence blinked down at the plate on his lap, horrified when he felt tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. Real, hot, substantial food. He couldn’t believe it.

“Start eating,” Mr. Graves said, but his voice had softened.

Credence obeyed at once, trying not to jump out of his skin when Mr. Graves sat down beside him on the edge of the crate, close enough to feel his body heat, but not close enough for their legs to touch. He looked at him fearfully over the fork holding a speared piece of sausage.

Mr. Graves watched him closely as if to make sure he really would eat. After having witnessed a few suspiciously hasty, too large bites, he said, “You’re not used to hot food during the day.” It wasn’t a question.

Credence lowered his eyes and shook his head.

“Do you usually eat breakfast?”

Chewing while wondering how to answer, Credence finally decided nothing but the truth would do. “Sometimes, if there’s extra gruel to spare.”

Mr. Graves made an annoyed sound. “You live with your foster mother?” When Credence nodded, he said, “I’ll have to have a word with her about the importance of--”

Credence looked at him in alarm. “Oh no, sir, please!” He gulped. “Please don’t! I’ll eat something tomorrow morning, I promise.”

Mr. Graves’ dark brows drew together in a heavy frown. He looked thoughtful. “We’ll let the matter go, for the time being, as long as I can be sure you have breakfast before I unleash you on the chopping board.”

Credence breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Graves.” He smiled, then he continued to eat at a less desperate pace.

“Yes, well.” Mr. Graves rose, straightened out clothes which weren’t in need of straightening, and said, “Make sure to have a big glass of fruit juice before you get back to work, Credence.”

“Yes, sir, I will. Thank you,” Credence said obediently around a mouthful of food. He gave him another bright smile which had Mr. Graves escaping the store room hurriedly.

***

The rest of the day moved along with infinitely more ease once his stomach was full. Just as he had before, Credence stole a few sly glances in Mr. Graves' direction as he worked, only this time he couldn't help a shy smile each time he did it. He couldn't help himself, no one had ever shown the kind of concern for him that Mr. Graves had, and certainly not enough to feed him as he'd done, whether it was a standard free meal or not. That part didn't matter; Mr. Graves had been worried for his well being and his performance, and Credence would be coming back tomorrow to keep up the good work after all. 

As he chopped and sliced away at whatever was placed before him, he felt almost cheerful. Thinking over the turn his day had taken, he found himself wondering again about what Jacob had said that morning, calling Mr. Graves the "dragon," with a visible shudder, no less. Credence felt he was in a position to know what a _real_ dragon looked like, and his new boss was nowhere near it. Sure, he was gruff and he had expectations, but his rough edges and high standards were born of obvious _care_ rather than anything sinister. In fact, the difference between Mr. Graves and someone like Mary Lou was pretty close to night and day, as far as Credence was concerned. If The Dragon wanted to serve him bacon and eggs and got irate when he neglected to care for himself properly… well, it was like Mr. Graves had said about being called "sir"--he wasn't about to complain.

The rest of the shift passed by just as quickly as the first half had done, and at no point did Credence and Mr. Graves have much cause to speak to one another again. Something about that came with a dull sense of disappointment, as though he were already growing hungry for the attention and possible snippets of praise from someone who wasn't bound to beat him black and blue for the slightest misstep. Even Jacob seemed to notice, whispering aside with a cockeyed grin how Credence was brave enough to try and tame the beast. 

"He's not usually this docile," he murmured next to him as they punched out for the day. "Almost as if he's the one on his best behavior. What did you say to him anyway, Cree?" 

Credence only smiled and shrugged, not sure he actually knew, himself. 

“Hey, do you have bus fare to get home?” Jacob asked.

Credence’s face fell. “Oh! No, I never thought of that.” He realised just how far he would have to walk to get home and knew already what would await him at the end of that walk. He was so distracted by his worries, he didn’t even hear what else Jacob said, but he did feel a handful of coins being pressed into his palm. “No, Jacob, I couldn’t!” he quickly said.

“You can and you will,” Jacob said, closing his hand around the coins. “Look, I know how it is for you right now. You can pay me back later, if you absolutely have to, but right now you just need to get here and back, okay?”

Credence smiled, touched. “Thank you, Jacob. I will pay you back, I promise.” He turned towards the exit and noticed Mr. Graves standing a little way down the hall, watching him and Jacob with a troubled expression. Credence hoped he didn’t think badly of him for having to borrow money from a colleague on his first day.

“Night, Mr. Graves,” Jacob called out, as did the rest of the staff on the way to the exit.

“Goodnight, everyone.” Mr. Graves was clearly not leaving yet, but he continued to linger in the corridor.

“Goodnight, sir,” Credence said, probably too softly to even be heard over the distance.

“Goodnight, Credence.”

Of course. Mr. Graves had pointed out his excellent hearing to Jacob that morning; maybe it was a dragon trait. With a smile, Credence slipped out the door by which Jacob and Newt lingered, feeling ready to face whatever the evening would bring.

***

It brought--and this was no surprise to him--a dangerously calm Mary Lou demanding to know how he had managed to be out and about all day and yet fail to secure even the most menial job.

“I tried, ma. I’m just not qualified for… anything.” Credence hated to lie, even to her, but if he told her he had a job, he would never be able to save enough to move out.

“You clearly didn’t try hard enough,” she told him. “Since you’re unable to help support the church, you can go without dinner. Besides…” She sniffed disdainfully. “You’ve clearly scrounged food from somewhere. I can smell it all over you.”

“I tried to get work in a restaurant, ma.”

“Be quiet. I don’t believe a word.” She held out her hand, smiling serenely. “Even you couldn’t fail to at least get work washing dishes or taking out the trash somewhere.”

Credence lowered his eyes as he undid his belt and handed it to her.

***

Sitting huddled at the foot of his bed some time later, he distracted himself from the throbbing pain all over his back with thoughts of Mr. Graves. It was thanks to him that he would be spending tomorrow among people who didn’t hate him and had no wish to see him in pain. It was thanks to him that there was now enough food in his system to sustain him overnight without him feeling nauseous. And it was definitely thanks to Mr. Graves that he actually looked forward to, rather than dreaded, the next day.

He had a job--an actual, proper job which would, eventually, allow him to move out. He didn’t care how small a huddle he would have to move into, as long as it was away from the church. Away from Mary Lou.

He winced as he reached for his phone hidden beneath the loose floorboard under his bed. He was infinitely grateful to his friends for providing him with the phone, as well as a basic plan that made him independent of the lack of technology inside the church. He hated to ask for anything else, but tonight had made one necessity very clear to him.

It took mere minutes for Newt to reply to his text asking if he could lend him some old clothes to wear at work, so he wouldn’t go home smelling of the restaurant kitchen. 

_**Newt:**  
No problem. There’s a shower at Eclipse you can use too._

Replying with his thanks, Credence was about to return the phone to its hiding place, when he gave in to an urge that had been building inside him throughout the evening. He texted Newt again, asking if he had Mr. Graves’ cell phone number, giving the excuse that he needed to ask him something important about his contract.

Newt replied at once, with a caution that Mr. Graves wasn’t too pleased about being called outside work except in an emergency, but Credence added the number to his contacts, then looked at it for a moment before sending his text:

  


_**Credence:**  
Sorry to disturb sir, ty for taking a chance on me today CB_

_**Mr. Graves:**  
Hi, Credence. Bit late, isn't it? And don't worry about thanking me. Like I said, you've got some good friends, but I appreciate the message all the same. You sure you aren't shell shocked after your first encounter with "The Dragon?" _

_**Credence:**  
NO! No sir! You know about that? The nickname I mean? But It’s all wrong, I think you were, i mean everyone was, very nice to me, but you most of all_

_**Mr. Graves:**  
I was "nice?" Credence, I YELLED at you. I'd hate to think what you're comparing me against so, well, if I came off as nice… _

_**Credence:**  
I don’t remember the yelling, but you probably had reason to fire me again today, and instead you gave me food, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even txt you so late, or at all, I won’t do it again._

_**Mr. Graves:**  
If you don't even remember the yelling, I'll have to put a little "dragon fire" into it next time ;) But don't worry, you gave me no cause to fire you. And don't worry about the texting, either, although I AM wondering how much sleep you're expecting to get? Can't have you swooning in my kitchen again._

_**Credence:**  
Ty, I’ll try not to, sir! I’m used to not sleeping very much, I’m sure I’ll be ok, and safe, as long as I keep my apron well away from that dragon fire :)_

_**Mr. Graves:**  
In the habit of burning the midnight oil? Or maybe the neighbours are the noisy type…?_

_**Credence:**  
It’s a noisy neighbourhood, but I don’t mind, I don’t need much sleep_

_**Mr. Graves:**  
Well... you might not now, but wait till you get to be my age. On that note, I'll say goodnight._

_And. Thanks for saying "thanks," unnecessary or not, it's nice to hear :)_

_**Credence:**  
I’m sure you’re not that old sir, but goodnight, and yw :)_


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the pain in his back, Credence woke with an unexpected sense of lightness, easing himself carefully out of bed feeling actually eager for the day ahead. 

At first, the warm shower spray stung when it hit his broken skin and he hissed beneath the sound of the pounding water. After a moment or two the sensation became something more soothing--the water running more clear as it swirled down the drain and he thought maybe it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd feared. 

It was easy to believe that hope was in reach, with a job to go to each day… not to mention Mr. Graves' gentle teasing right there in his saved messages, to be looked over whenever he wanted. Credence had to admit there'd been something sort of thrilling about texting the chef's personal number. He'd been surprised at his own boldness, and worried that it would go badly at first, but there was a comfort to having the man's words appearing right there in his hands, in the secrecy of his own room. As though he wasn't really alone anymore. 

He got to work with time to spare, only a few minutes before Newt, and gratefully took the bag containing a plain white T-shirt and dark pants--the combination all the kitchen staff wore, except for Mr. Graves, who wore a proper shirt. The fit was good, and the clothes were more comfortable and much better quality than his own. Once he’d changed in the bathroom, he picked one of the unused lockers, as he’d been told to, and stashed away his own things, well out of reach of the kitchen smells.

“Credence, my office!” came a sharp demand, just as he’d turned the key and pocketed it.

Credence’s heart sank. Mr. Graves sounded fully back in dragon mode, and maybe he’d decided that Credence texting him late in the evening was, after all, unforgivable. He hurried after the departing figure, as he had no idea just where Mr. Graves’ office was, and followed him into a small, tucked away room on the other side of the break room.

“Good morning, sir,” Credence muttered, standing before the tidy desk with his eyes lowered and his shoulders tense.

Mr. Graves frowned at him. “You’re an oddball, Credence.”

“Sir?” Credence met the dark eyes across the desk, stunned.

Something that might have been a suppressed snort of laughter, or the precursor to an exhalation of fire, came from the Head Chef. “There you are, looking as if you expect me to spank-- to tell you off, your shoulders so tight they look ready to snap, but you don’t forget to politely wish me a good morning.”

Credence’s jaw had dropped with a click about halfway through that statement, despite the quick save, and he could only stare in flustered bewilderment at Mr. Graves who, as far as he could judge, looked thoroughly embarrassed himself.

“I try to always be polite, Mr. Graves,” Credence managed in a less than stable voice.

Mr. Graves, still looking as if he’d dearly like to relive the past couple of minutes differently, said, “You succeed. No one could fault your manners.”

His face only heating further, Credence made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders, but then winced at the sharp pain of the sudden muscle shift.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Graves asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, sir. I hurt my back, being clumsy on the way home yesterday.” None of that was untrue, Credence decided--his back hurt as a result of his own lack of a better story for Mary Lou, and had hurt since he’d returned home the previous evening.

Mr. Graves looked at him searchingly. “Did you eat breakfast today?”

Credence averted his eyes. “Um…” He was never, on principle, allowed breakfast the morning after he had been punished, but the worst part of that right then was that he had broken his promise to Mr. Graves. He had said he would definitely eat breakfast.

“That’s what I thought.” Mr. Graves stood up, causing Credence’s shoulders to instantly tense up again. “Sit down, Credence.” He left once he was obeyed and returned a minute later, with a cinnamon roll and a banana on a plate he held out to Credence.

“But Mr. Graves, I can’t eat breakfast here too. Not if I’m given lunch--”

“Who makes the rules around here: you or me?” Mr. Graves asked sharply.

Credence gulped, picking at a corner of the very fresh cinnamon roll until he had loosened a piece. “You, sir, of course!”

“Exactly.” Mr Graves walked back around the desk and sat down. “I had a feeling you’d come in on an empty stomach again...” He was clearly on the verge of questions, but when his eyes dropped to the way Credence’s fingers trembled as he picked at the food, he simply said, “A bun and a piece of fruit won’t break the bank here; there’ll be a plate on this desk every morning, and you’re to come in here and get it before you go anywhere near the kitchen. Is that understood?”

Credence nodded and began to eat, feeling better with every bite. Again, Mr. Graves watched him, but only briefly, before he withdrew a couple of pages of paper from his desk drawer.

“This is your contract. Once you’ve eaten, look it over and let me know if you have any questions.”

Nodding eagerly, Credence said, “I can definitely stay?”

“Yes, Credence.” Mr. Graves performed a strange series of gestures--he rubbed the space between his brows, then took a deep breath, almost glowered at Credence, and then his eyes softened as his fingers interlaced on the desk. “You will definitely stay.” 

As Mr. Graves left the room, Credence told himself it was the sugar rushing through his system that had him feeling suddenly giddy. 

***

Once his contract had been reviewed and signed without any issues, and his breakfast eagerly wolfed down, Credence took his place at the cutting station alongside Newt. Mr. Graves glanced his way only once as he entered the room, quickly turning back to the cook he was in the midst of instructing. It was hard not to feel a little deflated somehow, knowing the difference between the way things were when it was just the two of them in the room and Credence had all of that glowering attention on him and nothing else. 

Chopping and scraping vegetables into a large bowl, he found himself thinking again of the little "wink" emoji Mr. Graves had typed out to him on the phone the night before. Would anyone here even suspect such a hidden playfulness from their stern and meticulous boss? It was almost as if there were two, maybe even _three_ different sides to the man, and it gave Credence a flutter of glowing hope that the "wink emoji" side was one only _he_ knew about. He couldn't help but remember how pleased Mr. Graves had been at being called "sir," or the way he'd _thanked_ Credence for thanking _him_. It occurred to him then that the Head Chef might not always enjoy the way he was seen by the rest of the staff, that Credence's _sirs_ and _thank yous_ were a sort of wink emoji moment in themselves: a rare treat. 

He glanced up, seeking the man across the room at that sudden realization, and several things happened in quick succession. 

First, he heard Jacob saying his name, in a tone of something like shock. " _Credence_ , Jesus! What--" 

Second, Credence met the eyes he'd been looking to find and they were already pinned on him--sharp as a hawk about to descend, in a scowling face going quickly pale. 

And third, he felt it. A slow, sticking wetness at the sting of his shoulder blade and he just _knew_.

“Credence, my office!” Mr. Graves was beside him, clearly unwilling to repeat himself, but also not touching him to hurry him along.

“Him _again_?” That was one of the cooks who didn’t have a view of Credence’s back. He instantly had the full force of Graves’ glower turned on him.

Credence didn’t argue or resist, he just let himself be marched out of the kitchen like a lamb to the slaughter, with Mr. Graves immediately behind him, and he could feel that stern gaze on his back, assessing the no longer pristine whiteness of the T-shirt suspiciously.

All the way to the back office, he frantically tried to come up with an excuse or explanation to keep his boss from finding out how pathetic he truly was and what his home life was like. He suspected more kindness in the man than anyone else seemed to, but he was sure he didn’t want the burden of an employee constantly verging on passing out and now bleeding in his kitchen too!

Jacob and Newt were having a frantic but quiet discussion, and there was a fair bit of chatter happening all over the kitchen, but a stern, “Back to work!” from Mr. Graves put an end to it all.

Once inside the office, Credence stood forlorn and awaited his fate.

Mr. Graves walked right past him and to a small cabinet, from which he withdrew a First Aid kit. As he set it down on the desk, he began to speak. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what kind of ‘accident’ you had on your way home that’s causing you to bleed right through your clothes?” He sounded almost helplessly angry. When there was no immediate reply, he narrowed his eyes at Credence. “I thought not. Take your T-shirt off.”

Credence looked at him with wide, fearful eyes. “I can’t, sir!”

“Don’t look so scandalised, for heaven’s sake. Whatever you’ve got patching up your back is clearly not working, and you can’t quietly keep bleeding through your clothes throughout the rest of your shift.”

Credence chewed his lip. “Please, Mr. Graves, I can’t take it off.”

Mr. Graves heaved a great sigh. “I can’t make you, and I don’t intend to, but likewise you can’t keep working with an open wound, so I’ll have to send you to a doctor or... home.” He watched Credence closely, his face growing paler at the fearful widening of his dark eyes.

“I can fix it myself!” Credence insisted, frantically. “Please, sir. It’s not that bad. If I could just have a bandage or… or two, I can do this.”

“You didn’t include ‘contortionist’ in your past work experience, Credence.”

Wringing his hands in front of himself, Credence murmured, “I’m… I’m shy, sir, I… I couldn’t undress in front of you.”

Mr. Graves took a step back. “I only asked for your top!” He looked a little horrified, just like Credence when their eyes met; under any other circumstances, it might have been amusing.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Graves said, “Look, I have no wish to make you uncomfortable or, heaven forbid, scared of me. I just don’t see how you can reach--”

“Newt!” Credence interrupted, then immediately lowered his eyes again in apology.

“Excuse me?” 

“Newt can help me.”

A variety of emotions flickered across Mr. Graves’ face. “You don’t mind Newt helping you,” he said, his voice sounding flat.

“We’ve been friends for a while.” Credence bit his lip. Newt knew all about his home life and, Credence was sure, was willing to help him cover up what would surely cost him this job after all.

“Say no more,” Mr. Graves said. He handed the first aid kit to Credence, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’ll send him out to help you. Don’t come back into the kitchen until your back is fixed up, do you hear?”

Credence nodded. “Yes, sir.” He wondered why Mr. Graves looked so crestfallen, and he felt terrible for, in some way, having caused it, even if he had no idea how. “Sir…” he said softly, with no idea how to go on beyond that.

Mr. Graves met his eyes and, for a few moments, they shared a sad, somewhat confused look. “You’ll need a replacement for that,” Mr. Graves said then, waving vaguely at Credence’s T-shirt.

“Oh.” Credence was about to say he’d wear what he’d come in wearing, but he remembered exactly why he couldn’t do that. Frowning, he considered options, and found there were none.

“I’ll lend you one of mine. It should fit reasonably well.”

Credence blinked at Mr. Graves, who turned and went back to the same cupboard to retrieve a folded up shirt.

“I trust you don’t consider this too personal. I assure you, it’s freshly laundered.” Mr. Graves sounded awkward, which seemed simply wrong for him.

Realising it must be because of his horrified reaction to removing his own top, Credence quickly assured him, “Oh no, sir, it’s fine. Thank you so much!”

He was handed a good quality white cotton shirt and clutched it, unable to suppress a little smile. He was going to be wearing one of Mr. Graves’ shirts, even if only for a day.

“You can keep that, if the fit is good,” Mr. Graves said, to his complete surprise, but he had vanished out of the office before Credence could say a thing about it.

A few moments later, Newt came quietly through the door with a commiserating look on his face. "Mr. Graves says you need my help with something," he said softly. "Credence, I… what happened? Usually, he just shouts but I've never seen him so angry he turns _silent_. You… you still work here, don't you?" 

He stepped all the way into the room with a touch of rising worry at the miserable cast to Credence's face. "He didn't _fire_ you, did he?" 

"No," Credence quickly assured him. "No, he didn't fire me but, uh…" 

He turned his shoulder to reveal the drying blood there. "I'm so sorry, Newt, I ruined your T-shirt. I couldn't patch it up myself at home and I guess it reopened while I was working and Mr. Graves saw and was… he wanted to help but I wouldn't _let_ him and--" 

"Hey, hey, it's okay.. " Newt came towards him, raising his hands placatingly. "I see now why he sent me to help you, not to mention why he's so _furious_. He knows now, doesn't he? About--?" 

"No! No, I didn't tell him anything, I can't! I just said that I fell and I think he suspects I'm lying and it made him even more mad…" 

Newt was already reaching for the first aid kit abandoned open on the desk. "Well, it's probably just as good he doesn't know," he said. "Knowing _The Dragon_ , I'm not sure he could keep himself from somehow holding it against you--" 

"Please don't call him that," Credence interrupted, T-shirt halfway lifted with his back awkwardly twisted to look Newt in the face. He paused for a moment, seeing the shock there and feeling just as stunned at himself for the words that had come like a sudden burst of scalding steam. "I… I just don't think it's a good idea to say things like that… about your employer…" 

"Credence." Newt tilted his head, eyebrows raised and drawing steadily towards each other in confusion. "What is it between you two?" 

"Nothing!" Credence insisted, reddening as though he'd been smartly burned by his own expulsion. He quickly turned his face away, letting Newt press the bandages against the deepest of his lashes in tense silence. As emphatic as he'd been in denying it, Credence had to admit, if only to himself, that he wanted to know the answer to Newt's question just as badly. If not more. 

Newt had said he'd never before seen Mr. Graves as upset as Credence had somehow made him. Just knowing that fact alone had something unfamiliar and bittersweet tugging in his chest--a need to go to him, to soothe his hurt the same way Newt was tending to him now. And there was something else there Credence had to admit, the reason he'd texted the man the night before, that same thing _pulling_ at him now: he didn't like to be away from Mr. Graves. From that first moment the man's knuckles had brushed over the small of his back, tying his apron in the laundry room and adjusting the tilt of his cap… 

That was when Credence realized with a lurch of something almost like _dismay_. The answer to Newt's question was all too clear. What it was between him and Mr. Graves was empty space, and Credence pined to close the gap.

Newt seemed to know Credence was mulling over something big, and he went back to the kitchen on his own, leaving him behind.

Credence took his time changing into Mr. Graves’ shirt, possibly longer than he should, considering he was in the middle of a shift. His fingers lingered on the soft material, and he sighed when he slipped his arms into the sleeves. The soft cotton slid over his shoulders like a caress, and the collar was so smooth, it might have been a gentle palm curling around his neck.

He chided himself for his foolishness, hoping the cool material would calm down his flushed skin. The shirt fit just fine and, once he’d done up the buttons, he glanced to the door before tilting his head and raising the not yet tucked in front to inhale deeply. He dropped it in disappointment. It smelled nice, but only of laundry detergent; of course.

Still, all the same he felt shielded by the cotton shirt, plain as it was. Even more than the bandages covering his wounds, it seemed to protect him in a way that he could almost imagine Mr. Graves arms might do, if Credence were ever to be actually held by the man. Now that he understood… that he _wanted _him to. He wrapped his arms around himself at the thought and lightly shuddered before he pulled himself together enough to shake the idle fancy away and get back to work.__

____

His mind was still back in Mr. Graves’ office, however, and he missed the meaningful looks exchanged by the rest of the staff when he returned in what was unmistakably one of the boss’ shirts.

Mr. Graves watched him, and Newt too, on and off, for the rest of the shift, even while he seemed annoyed at himself for doing so. He frowned continuously, snapped at everyone, and even passed on an order incorrectly; this, apparently, was entirely unprecedented in the history of his work as Head Chef at Eclipse. He apologised to the line cooks, took every last shred of the blame, and retreated to his office for about ten minutes, during which Credence dropped a bowl of grated carrots and cracked an egg so it fell next to a mixing bowl, rather than inside it.

“This shift can’t be over soon enough,” Jacob stated, plucking an anchovy fillet out of a dish of crème brûlée it decidedly didn’t belong in. “Graves is putting everyone on edge. His scales must be itching or something.”

Credence frowned, biting his lip hard to keep from asking Jacob to refrain from dragon analogies too, but he was very aware that Newt looked at him closely.

When Mr. Graves did return, he seemed more composed, and by the time the shift staff began to filter out of the kitchen, he appeared to be back to his usual self, namely watchful--if no longer especially so over Credence or Newt--and no-nonsense.

Newt told Credence where the shower was; tucked away at the far end of the bathroom, in a lockable cubicle. He also directed him to the towels, and then he went home.

Mr. Graves was in his office, talking to a young man Credence didn’t know. He assumed it was someone from the late shift, which had just begun to trundle in.

Credence showered quickly, not wanting to get in anybody’s way, and knowing the later he got home, the worse things would be for him. He crept past Mr. Graves’ office carefully, not wanting to explain why he was still there, and heard laughter. He frowned, trying to peer around the door, just barely ajar, with one eye--the young man from before was still there, leaning forward and talking animatedly to Mr. Graves, laughing a lot too, even though the Head Chef’s face was unmoved.

“Are you sure I can’t change to your shift, Mr. Graves? The hours would be much more convenient, and I know you’re looking for a prep cook; you know I’m good!”

Credence held his breath. Oh no, this was it. He would lose out to someone more experienced, less disaster prone, and clearly known to Mr. Graves. He reluctantly recalled the young man’s looks, too, and found himself lacking in comparison; if that kind of thing should be of any consequence to Mr. Graves. 

“I’ve already hired someone, Jason. The position is no longer available.”

Credence stared at the nearly closed door.

“Someone more experienced than me? At such short notice?” Jason’s’ voice rose with dismay.

There was the scraping of chair legs and then Mr. Graves’ voice. “I hardly think I need to explain my hiring practices to you. I don’t know why you think you were entitled to the position, but it has been filled. That’s all that concerns you. Now, if you don’t mind--I’ve had a long day, and I believe you need to get to work.”

Credence hurriedly left, grinning all the way to the locker, where he deposited Mr. Graves’ nice shirt and shrugged on his thin jacket, then hurried outside and to the bus stop.

All the bus ride home, it seemed nearly inconceivable that Mr. Graves still wanted him on staff with someone much more equipped literally begging for the job. The Chef had been so short with him as well, irritable even, and Credence could only suspect there must be some prior history there--perhaps Jason was someone who'd already gotten on Mr. Graves's bad side or else surely he'd have taken the chance to replace Credence eagerly. 

But still, it wasn't the young man's qualifications as a cook that Credence had felt most threatened by, and just like that moment with Mr. Graves' soft shirt, he had to be honest with himself. Whoever Jason was, he was clearly a looker. Knowing that had no power of appeal over his boss, that it wasn't enough to sway him into choosing the other cook over Credence… it warmed him with a tentative hope. Not wanting to lose that feeling, he tried not to think too hard on the other possibility: that Mr. Graves just might not fancy other men in the same sinful way Credence himself clearly did. And how typically sinful of himself was it, indeed, to wish that Mr. Graves might share his shameful predilection? And still, like always he simply couldn't help it. 

Just like he couldn't help the sinking of his stomach as he reached his home and saw the lateness of the hour. Thank God for his free meal at work, and the breakfast Mr. Graves had so generously insisted upon him. Because he knew without question it would be another night without any supper. And though she was unlikely to beat him again so soon, while his back was still freshly bloodied from the night before, there would certainly be punishment chores waiting for him when he got through the door. He could manage the work, and the cruel words slung at his injured back, knowing that he still had a real job to do the next day. And that he would see Mr. Graves again. 

***

He'd been right about the chores--a seemingly endless pile of them--and they'd carried him into late evening yet again. His hands were sore from scrubbing, his back still stung where he lay against the thin sheet of his bed, and still… the only thing that really nagged at him was that sense he'd felt while Newt patched up his wounds. An almost need to reconcile somehow with Mr. Graves, to know the man was okay and that he wasn't frustrated with Credence beyond limit. 

Just as he was turning on his side to place his phone back underneath the boards and try to sleep, it vibrated in his hand. He turned it to squint at the luminous screen in the dark, expecting Newt, but it was… somehow, impossibly, it was Mr. Graves. Almost as if, even more impossibly, he'd felt that same pull. His heart started to pound as he read the text. 

  


**Mr. Graves**  
_Good evening, Credence. I hope this isn't too late, but knowing your sleep habits, I suspect it's not. Just wanted to ask how your injury is faring now that's it's been seen to and you've had some time to rest._

 **Credence**  
_Good evening, sir! :) Ty for checking on me, I’m ok now. No it’s not too late, I’m very glad to hear from you! I’m so sorry about acting so stupid this morning. I feel very bad about it._

 **Mr. Graves**  
_Credence, you weren't acting stupid. You have every right to be most comfortable with your_  
  
_Close friend_  
  
_Your good friend, that is. I hope you don't think I was angry with you, I think maybe I was mostly alarmed to discover how badly you were actually hurt. Must've been quite a tumble you took?_

 **Credence**  
_That’s very kind of you, sir, to be concerned. I was just clumsy. Newt is a good friend, but pls don’t think you make me uncomfortable. That’s not it. More awkward than usual, maybe, if that’s even possible :)_

 **Mr. Graves**  
_I seem to make most of the kitchen staff feel awkward, really. Dragon problems ;)_  
  
_I'm used to it, but it's very relieving to hear that it's not something like discomfort that I cause you to feel._

 **Credence**  
_Not at all! Nothing like discomfort. I wish they wouldn’t call you that, and I know it’s not my place to be annoyed about it, but I can’t help it. :(_

 **Mr. Graves**  
_It bothers you that they have a nickname for me at work? Doesn't every boss get one of those sooner or later?_

 **Credence**  
_I wouldn’t know. You’re my first, si_  
  
_My first boss, that’s whyI wouldnt know! But it seems mean, and I don’t think you are a dragon!_

 **Mr. Graves**  
_It's… unusual to have someone on staff, or really anywhere else, who doesn't agree with that title._  
  
_Again, I can only wonder what yardstick you've got to measure me against, if you don't think I'm a bit too much on the grumpy side._  
  
_I haven't exactly made the best example of myself with you these past two days._  
  
_And I apologize for that._

 **Credence**  
_I don’t have many people to compare you to, sir, I just know you were willing to give me a chance when I needed one, and you’ve been willing to overlook my… my mistakes and lack of experience. I’m the one who needs to apologize, sir, not you! I’m very glad I’m working for you._

 **Mr. Graves**  
_Well, you have your friends, and they're good people (even if Jacob is a bit of a smart mouth at times)_  
  
_Newt is_  
  
_a fine and very fortunate young man. You haven't made any mistakes as far as I can see, in your personal or professional endeavours._  
  
_And you've nothing to apologize for. I'm very glad to have you._  
  
_Working for us at Eclipse._

 **Credence**  
_I am very grateful for my friends. You made me laugh, about Jacob :) Newt (why is he fortunate?) and he are both very kind. I’m so glad you don’t regret hiring me, Mr. Graves. Very glad! :) I won’t let you down, sir_

 **Mr. Graves**  
_I'm glad I could make you laugh. And of course Newt is fortunate to have you, don't sell yourself so short or I'll have to scold you all over again._  
  


_I don't regret hiring you and honestly, how nice it would be if the rest of the staff were so eager to be as reliable._

**Credence**  
_You did. I wish I could do that to you too, make you laugh. I think maybe you need_  
  
_I could try to get my apron strings caught in the ovens? :) That would probably get me a scolding, but maybe make you laugh too. Sir, what do you mean by Newt having me?_

 **Mr. Graves**  
_Well, you've just made me laugh with that image alone, but please don't actually do that, haha. More than a scolding, you'd likely get hurt and we can't have that._  
  
_I'm sorry, Credence, but I'm a bit confused here. Is Newt not… well, your beau, so to speak?_

 **Credence**  
_I did? I think I’ll sleep better just knowing that. But if I was hurt, I know you have a first aid kit now. ;)_  
  
_You thought that Newt is my boyfriend? Was it because of the_  
  
_Oh no! He’s not like me_  
  
_Like that. He has a girlfriend._

 **Mr. Graves**  
_"Like that?" Credence… I hope you don't have any… uncomfortable feelings about your preference. Whether or not Newt is or isn't the same way, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it._  
  
_You know what? This isn't my place, I shouldn't have assumed or even said anything about that kind of stuff. I misunderstood and I overstepped. Please forget that I said anything about it._

 **Credence**  
_My friends have said so too, but it’s hard to accept being what I’ve been taught to consider sinful. I’m glad it doesn’t make you think less of me, sir. Do you mind if I don’t forget you said anything? This is probably something I have no place to say but I_  
  
_I really want you to think well of me, Mr. Graves, and I feel you must care about people to want them to know they’re ok as they are_  
  
_I’m sorry I’m rambling, sir, and probably not making sense, but I hope you know what I’m trying to say._

 **Mr. Graves**  
_It's good to know that your friends have been trying to tell you this, because they're right to say it._  
  
_But I am sorry to hear you've been taught to see it that way. I was taught much the same thing, too. You're not Catholic by any chance? ;) Of course it doesn't make me think less of you… I'd be quite the hypocrite if I did, wouldn't I?_  
  
_I think very well of you._  
  
_And yes I do want you to know you're just great how you are._  
  
_Even if you do ramble a bit :p I'm afraid I might be keeping you up now._

 **Credence**  
_I am, and are you saying you’re like me? I’m so glad!!_  
  
_Because you understand, I mean!_  
  
_What it’s like. Better than my friends can. I think very well of you too, sir, really i do. It’s a comfort to talk to you, and that’s probably why I ramble. Sorry!_  
  
_I think you want to go to bed yourself, and I’m in the way, but you’re too nice to say so. (See? Not a dragon) Anytime you want to keep me up, I won’t mind at all, sir_  
  
_Goodnight! :)_

 **Mr. Graves**  
_Yes, I am the same way. That's why I know it's nothing to feel bad over._  
  
_Having people who understand is important… If it's something you need to talk about, by all means, ramble on, haha._  
  
_I suppose I should get some sleep, or else I'll be the one singeing my apron strings! Although I'm still not sure my being "nice" has anything to do with it. More like happily distracted._  
  
_Goodnight, and sleep well :)_


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Credence did upon waking the next day was reach beneath the floorboard next to his mattress and take out his phone.  
For a good fifteen minutes, he just read and reread Mr. Graves' messages from the night before, grinning to himself the whole while. 

He'd never known someone like himself, not in _that_ way, and just the thought that the first one he did would turn out to be _Mr. Graves_ …. his good luck could be barely believed. Even though he'd chided himself for even wishing it, now his wish had come true he wouldn't take it back for anything. 

It wasn't even so much the thought that Mr. Graves might be like _that_ for _him_ \--that idea was ludicrous, of course, and well beyond the scope of his luck, however good it might be of late. It was simply knowing that there was someone _else_ , and the secret conversation now taking place nightly in his room meant he was less and less alone every time he opened up his phone. Or went to work.  
Oh, _Work!_

Credence hopped out of bed, stashing the phone reluctantly back in its hiding place to make his way for the shower before anyone else was up.

He was careful with his bandages, and managed to dress without disturbing them too. His own shirt felt rough and almost unfamiliar to him when he remembered the softness of the one Mr. Graves had given him; it was waiting for him at work, and that thought made him smile. Ma would be at a church meeting that evening when he got home, so he hoped he’d be able to bring it home and wash it, drying it in front of his open window overnight.

He hurried down the stairs, only to run into Mary Lou, who looked at him suspiciously. He figured he looked too happy.

“You didn’t sweep the front steps last night,” she accused.

“I’m sorry, ma, it was too windy.”

She scoffed. “I’m tired of your excuses. Do it now.”

Credence wrung his hands, but there was nothing he could do. He would miss the right bus, and he would be late. “Yes, ma.”

He swept the stairs and the entire sidewalk around the church, because he knew full well that his foster mother didn’t merely mean the stairs; she would find him something else to do, if he didn’t do this of his own accord.

He was tense on the bus ride in to work, trying to come up with an excuse for his lateness. The happy glow the previous night’s exchange of message had left around him was slowly dissipating.

He slipped into the restaurant through the back door and, assuming the corridor was bound to be empty right after the start of a shift, hurriedly changed into Mr. Graves’ shirt without even taking the time to do so in the bathroom. He picked up the trousers and turned, only to find himself looking right at the man.

“Credence,” he merely said, softly. He looked rather flushed.

Credence imagined the kitchen was already busy, and hot. It was about fifteen minutes into his shift. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Mr. Graves. I… I missed my bus.” He quickly threw the trousers back into the locker, resigning himself to not being able to change completely today.

Mr. Graves was still looking at him oddly. “No matter. It happens.”

Credence smiled gratefully, and went to move past him into the kitchen, but his path was barred by a raised arm and a hand against the doorframe.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Blinking, Credence tried, “The kitchen?”

Mr. Graves gave him a searching look. “Does that mean you’ve had breakfast today?”

Before he could answer, Credence felt himself redden at the mere idea of lying to this man, and he lowered his eyes and shook his head.

“Then you know what to do.” Mr. Graves pointed towards his office.

“But, sir, I’m already late.”

“In there, Credence.” He made sure Credence detoured towards his office, following him.

When they got there, a plate with a domed cover sat on the desk, and Credence lifted it to reveal a croissant dripping with honey, with a few orange segments beside it. Credence’s heart contracted and expanded again. He gave Mr. Graves a happy smile and started eating, standing up. The croissant was still slightly warm; it was buttery and flaky, and it was heavenly. Credence couldn’t suppress a tiny moan, then licked up the honey coating his index finger.

Mr. Graves stared at him, swallowing convulsively. “You should… sit. I suppose…” He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re too worried about being late to sit and relax for a moment?”

Credence nodded.

“Right. Of course you are.” Mr. Graves started turning towards the door, then looked back again, and took a couple of hasty steps towards Credence. “You didn’t tuck the shirt in properly.”

Before Credence could even grow worried about being late as well as slovenly, Mr. Graves stepped even closer. Close enough to count his lashes, almost. With the tips of his fingers sliding into the waistband of Credence’s trousers, thumb curled over his belt, he tucked the shirt in.

“There, that’s better,” he rasped, not quite meeting Credence’s astonished eyes.

Credence struggled to unstick his butter and honey smeared lips, muttering, “Yes... thank you, s-sir." 

Mr. Graves finally looked up into his face only to smirk softly at whatever he saw there. " _Credence_ …" he said, in a tone of gentle chiding. "You're all at sixes and sevens, today." 

He lifted his hand carefully towards Credence's face, thumb slightly extended. "May I?" he asked. 

Credence had no idea what exactly he was agreeing to, but whatever it was, if it involved Mr. Graves' hands on him again, he was all too eager. He nodded, wide-eyed and barely breathing. 

Mr. Graves swiped the edge of his thumb gently at the corner of Credence's mouth, catching what he supposed must be a smear of honey he'd missed in his haste to get to work. For a moment, neither of them moved and the moment fairly _vibrated_ with some unnamed potency Credence struggled to name. It certainly wasn't that fearful anticipation he felt in such silent exchanges with Mary Lou. Rather, it was the opposite--a moment that had him fervently wanting whatever came next. Meeting Mr. Graves' eyes he realized the word for what it was, that strange feeling. It was trust. Absolute and unquestioning trust. 

Mr. Graves blinked and dropped his gaze, and the moment was over as quickly as it had come. 

"Go on, then" he said, almost a whisper as he gestured towards the door. "Get to work." 

“Yes, sir,” Credence breathed, hurrying from the room to get a cap and apron.

His mood of thrilled, nervous excitement, carried with him as a potent reminder of Mr. Graves’ closeness and touch… _god_... lasted until he took his place near Newt and spotted the man he’d seen in Mr. Graves’ office the day before: Jason, who had demanded his job.

He asked Newt about him.

“Staff can ask for a different shift, if it’s more convenient, temporarily or permanently.” Newt frowned. “In this case, I’m pretty sure it’s temporary. Mr. Graves can’t stand him and, frankly, it’s the same with most people. He wouldn’t have agreed to a permanent change.”

“Oh.” Credence frowned. He very much hoped Newt was right, and that the change would be temporary, then chided himself for being mean. Still, he was very pleased to hear it confirmed that Mr. Graves, even sharing his proclivities, was not swayed by Jason's looks.

Mr. Graves came into the kitchen at that moment, and Credence’s eyes found his purely by instinct now. He blushed when he got a slow smile he felt almost certain no one in this kitchen had ever seen before.

“There are two things that baffle me today,” Newt said.

“Hmm?” Credence could hardly bear to avert his eyes from Mr. Graves, but he tried to concentrate on the tomatoes piled up high beside him.

“Despite arriving late, you look as if you’ve just been given some kind of award, rather than a telling off. And, did Graves just _smile_ at you?”

Credence chewed his lip, threw a handful of diced tomatoes into a bowl, and said, “I didn’t notice. Probably not.”

“Right.” Newt sounded far from convinced.

After concentrating on his chopping for a while, Credence became aware he was being observed. It wasn’t the warm, rather exciting sensation he felt when Mr. Graves watched him and, indeed, he saw him dealing with a minor crisis over a soufflé, right across the kitchen. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like small hooks trying to lodge themselves under his skin; it felt as if Mary Lou was watching him. He looked up in a near-panic, only to see Jason had somehow managed to end up across from him.

“Hi, you’re the new guy, I guess?” the other man said. It didn’t sound like a greeting, more like an accusation.

“Yes. I’m Credence.”

“Jason.” The too-pale blue eyes assessed Credence blatantly. “I’m surprised you’re in this section of the kitchen. Didn’t you just start?”

Confused, Credence was about to ask for clarification, when Newt said, “Shouldn’t matter to you. This isn’t even your usual shift.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at him. “No, it’s not,” he said, in a low, annoyed voice, then looked at Credence again.

Well aware he was the reason it wasn’t the other man’s shift now, Credence finished the tomatoes as quickly as he could, then went to help Jacob and two other cooks prepare pancake batter.

This seemed to annoy Jason even more, as he kept shooting unsettling looks at Credence, at least until Mr. Graves turned up and told him to concentrate on his work.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough, and Credence gratefully agreed to the later time slot, once he realised Jason was part of the first group to take a break. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is everything okay, Credence?” Jacob asked.

“Sure.” He smiled at his friend, but it was a shaky smile. He didn’t know why the other man unsettled him so.

“Okay, you just seem a bit jittery.”

Credence remembered something from earlier. “Jacob, why is it unusual for me to be working in this section with you and Newt?”

Jacob laughed. “It’s a step up from a complete beginner. Generally, The Dragon doesn’t trust new people with anything beyond stacking the dishwasher and running errands all over the place, at least for a couple of weeks.” When Credence looked surprised, he said, “Guess you got lucky Graves needed you right here.”

A slow smile made it to Credence’s lips when he allowed himself to imagine, just for one outrageous moment, that Mr. Graves might simply want to have him close by. “I guess so.”

***

Credence had lunch with his friends, and didn’t see Mr. Graves for the duration but, luckily, neither did he see Jason. At least not until he returned to the kitchen and found him actually waiting for him.

“Credence, was it?” When Credence nodded, he went on, “The dessert crew need almonds, but they’re all busy. Since you’re new, go and grab them? They’re in the storeroom.” When Credence hesitated, he leaned in unpleasantly close and hissed, “New guys run errands around here, kid. Do some real work. It’s not quite your turn to take it easy in the kitchen.”

A cold sweat broke out on Credence’s brow. Jason’s tone and attitude towards him was so reminiscent of Mary Lou, he was instantly overcome by the all too familiar, nearly crippling anxiety, and he obeyed without so much as an argument.

He hurried from the kitchen and to the storeroom, where he quickly realised there was a good system to the way boxes were arranged. Naturally. He smiled shakily. Mr. Graves wouldn’t stand for bad organisation.

The box of almonds was, unfortunately, on the top shelf, and it looked likely to be a heavy box, too. Credence moved the ladder close and started up, trying not to think about his vertigo which, he thought, shouldn’t bother him a mere six steps up. But it did. Even the perfectly solid landing at the top of the church staircase made him dizzy. He took a moment, too brief a moment, to regain his balance, then reached to pull out the still sealed box marked:

Almonds, whole, natural  
40 x 14 oz.  
35 pounds

He grasped it with both hands and pulled hard. But, not only was it not heavy, whatever weight it had was unevenly distributed and slid right to the front, and Credence overbalanced backwards.

“Credence!” The voice, even worried like this, was unmistakable.

Credence flailed, clinging to the box for dear life, not wanting to drop it, no matter what, as he fully expected it to burst open and the contents to be wasted. With no hands free, all he could do was try to shift his weight forward, towards the shelf, and the ladder shuddered under him.

“Let go of the box!” The words came at the same time the ladder began to steady itself under the added weight of Mr. Graves, who was climbing up behind him quickly. “Let go,” he repeated, very close to Credence’s ear then.

The words might have been in an unfamiliar language, for all the meaning they carried for Credence. All he knew at that moment was the warmth of Mr. Graves' body sliding up along his legs, his… and his back. Mr. Graves set his left foot down on the same rung of the ladder Credence stood on, and reached past him to grab hold of the vertical shelf post, his breath hot on his nape, his spicy, masculine scent impressing itself into Credence’s senses the way his broad chest pressed into his back and his inner thigh into the outside of his leg.

“Let go, Credence,” he repeated huskily.

“It’ll fall down,” Credence croaked.

“So what?” Mr. Graves used his free hand to push the box out of Credence’s grasp, and it slid back onto the shelf. “There, it’s safe. More importantly, so are you.”

“Yes.” His voice a mere whisper now, Credence was breathing hard. With nowhere to go, he was trapped against the ladder by Mr. Graves’ body. His eyes moved over the well cared-for hand, and the strong, tattooed forearm emerging from rolled up shirt sleeves and keeping them both steady, while Mr. Graves' upper arm pressed down on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, Credence?" Mr. Graves’ voice was low. Worried.

"Dizzy." Credence licked his dry lips. His name sounded very soft in Mr. Graves’ concerned voice. "I'm not good with heights," he confessed.

"Then what are you doing up here?"

"I didn't want to be unhelpful. I was asked to get almonds."

"Credence," Mr. Graves said in an exasperated voice, "your work ethic is charming, but it will make me prematurely grey."

“I’m sorry, sir.” Credence sighed, though a wonderful warmth filled him at the word ‘charming’, not to mention Mr. Graves’ concern for him. “I feel like I keep letting you down.”

“Stop that,” Mr. Graves commanded, but his voice was still soft. His left hand cupped Credence’s upper arm. He still hadn’t moved. “I told you, I’m very pleased with your work. But you must speak up for yourself when you’re asked to do something you can’t do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, Credence. I _insist_ you stop risking being hurt.”

He spoke in a low, beseeching tone that did wonderful things to Credence. Every inch of his skin burned where it was in contact with Mr. Graves, even through their clothes. Dizzy or not, he knew he’d be willing to remain up on this ladder indefinitely. He leaned back, into the comforting warmth and strength of the man behind him, just a little, knowing he wouldn’t let him fall.

Mr. Graves audibly exhaled a hot puff of breath against Credence’s nape, making him shiver and gasp. “Credence…”

“Sir?”

“Let’s--” His voice coming out higher than usual, Mr. Graves tried again. “Let’s get you down. Slowly.”

Credence sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Graves.” He nearly overbalanced again when a warm hand came to rest on his waist, the fingers curling firmly into his flesh.

The descent was the best kind of torture, with Mr. Graves only ever a step ahead of him, aiding him down with that hand, while holding on to the ladder with the other, until they were on solid ground.

There, Mr. Graves turned him around, his eyes darker than usual.

Or so it seemed to Credence, who struggled to breathe, half leaning back against the ladder, which was now the only thing to keep him from swooning, full stomach or not.

Suddenly, the spell was broken, when Mr. Graves frowned and looked up towards the top of the ladder. “Credence, who sent you to get the almonds?”

Feeling a little disoriented by the sudden change of mood, Credence said, “Jason, sir.”

“Jason.” Mr. Graves’ frown became more serious. “Wait here a moment.” He climbed up the ladder quickly and without any trouble, and took hold of the box carefully, realising that it was all but empty when he rattled it back and forth. He came down with it and tore it open, only to find 2 bags of almonds in what had been carefully resealed to make it look like an unopened box of 40 bags.

While Credence looked on in confusion, he went up again and rummaged around the shelf, moving a few other boxes, until he found the remaining bags stashed behind and between them. He cursed violently and descended the ladder in a fury, clearly making a monumental effort to control his voice when he spoke to Credence. 

“What exactly did Jason say, Credence?”

Recalling the taunting words clearly enough, Credence repeated them to Mr. Graves.

“Oh, he said all that, did he?” Mr. Graves scoffed, his eyes flashing and his nostrils flaring and, for a moment, the dragon metaphor seemed somewhat apt, even to Credence. When Credence nodded, he turned and marched from the room, bearing the nearly empty box.

Credence followed him hurriedly, wondering what trouble he had somehow caused _now._

“Jason!” Mr. Graves bellowed, loudly enough for the entire kitchen staff to jump.

The man in question turned around, dropping Credence’s chopping knife he’d been playing with, and the remnants of a grin died on his face. His gaze dropped to the box in Graves’ hands and he paled. He nearly fell over when the box was launched at him with force, but caught it with both arms.

“That’s your remaining pay. Get out.”

Murmurs started up.

“You can’t do that, Mr. Graves!” Jason protested, holding the box like a shield. “Not without notice. I’m not even on your regular crew!”

“Can’t I?” Mr. Graves took a few steps towards the man, who backed against the nearest cabinet. “Willful endangerment of another member of staff is very high up on the list of reasons for instant dismissal. I suggest you go home and consult your contract, now that you have time on your hands.” His voice was more terrifying than Mary Lou’s at its calmest.

Credence found that, seeing that kind of anger directed at someone else from a man he’d come to look up to and trust and… more, and on his behalf no less, made him feel the most pleasurable kind of ‘valued’ he’d ever felt. Anger, for Credence, always meant _danger_ in the most urgent and personal sense. As overheated and muddled as his thoughts were in that moment, he couldn't recall any time in his life he'd seen anger wielded in his defense. 

And Mr. Graves' anger was something to behold--worthy of the legendary reputation Credence, until now, only had cause to wonder about. The man _was_ a dragon, all cold steel and blazing fire… but more than that, he was truly righteous. Mary Lou had always tried to lay claim to that very thing in her rages: righteousness. Still, always underneath the bluster was a resentful thread of shame, a barely-glimpsed sense of knowing she was in the wrong, and it only made her all the more cruel. In that moment, Credence saw how the man had earned his name and the sight warmed him. Because though dragon he might be, just then Mr. Graves was _his_ dragon.

The man was in the right, and he knew it. So, it seemed, did everyone else. 

Somewhere off to Credence's right, Jacob took one look at the empty box still clutched to Jason's chest and put two and two together. "Aw, you gotta be _kidding_ me," he said, and he sounded nearly as angry as his Head Chef.

Jason, on the other hand, remained frozen--either through his own anger or even fearful astonishment, Credence couldn't tell. Finally, he made to move forward, as if he'd caught hold of some unforeseen bit of nerve and decided to meet Mr. Graves halfway. The tension in the kitchen was pulled taut as a rubber band, with even a few of the line cooks (Jacob included) looking eager for it to snap. It was clear this Jason had made few friends on either shift, and he seemed to understand that himself all at once. His bravado left him, and cursing loudly, he threw the empty box down to the kitchen floor and stormed out to a round of whistles and enthusiastic applause. 

Mr. Graves turned on his heel and waved the ruckus down with orders to get back to work. Even still, Credence caught the hint of a satisfied gleam to his eyes he wasn't sure any of the others quite noticed the way he did. 

"Credence," he said, turning those eyes on him long enough for him to watch them turn briefly _fond_. Mr. Graves must've been thrilled to see the back of Jason, to be looking at Credence like _that._ "If you're not too badly shaken, I think we all have work to do." 

"Yes sir, absolutely," he nodded back, trying hard to breathe the shakiness out of his chest. 

As he turned back to his station, one of the line cooks he'd never directly spoken to called out to him despite the Head Chef's order for quiet. 

"Hey kid, I don't know what Jason did to you today to make that happen, but we oughta carry you out on our shoulders at the end of shift."

Credence went red, but gave the man a brief smile, before obeying Mr. Graves and getting back to work. He hoped the ‘carrying him out on their shoulders’ ceremony wouldn’t actually happen, or he’d die of embarrassment. If it _should_ happen, he’d want the last thing he remembered to be that look in Mr. Graves’s eyes just then.

***

Credence had trouble tearing himself away at the end of the shift, with everyone trying to talk to him and find out what happened. He was starting to worry about missing his bus when Mr. Graves stepped in with instructions to the rest of the staff to leave him alone and instructions to Credence to have a good rest.

Credence gave him a grateful smile, receiving one of those almost-smiles some might miss, but which made Credence feel special, in return.

The fact that Mary Lou was pacing in the church entrance, waiting for him, hardly even phased him. He just made sure to wrap his short jacket more tightly around himself to hide Mr. Graves’ shirt under it.

“Finally. I’ve been waiting half an hour for you. Still no work?” When Credence shook his head, she narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s soup on the stove. See to it that Modesty is in bed by 7 and help Chastity with the pamphlets.”

“Yes, ma,” Credence said obediently, taking a deep breath as he watched her walk away down Pike Street.

Dinner, such as it was, went by quickly, and Modesty never gave him any trouble, no matter what. Printing and folding the church pamphlets with Chastity was tense and happened without conversation; they both acknowledged, wordlessly, that they didn’t like each other.

Credence spent the evening thinking about Mr. Graves, of course. He was becoming a constant presence in his thoughts, and after today and everything that had happened, the thoughts were as frequent and as inevitable as his breaths; in and out, Mr. Graves… Mr. Graves.

While washing the shirt, then hanging it in front of his open window, Credence found himself wondering whether the man had a first name. Silly. Of course he did, though what kind of name could possibly fit someone like that--stern but gentle, demanding but generous, strict but kind... The list went on and on inside Credence’s head, until he had to admit to himself that he was quite irrevocably falling in love with Mr. Something Graves.

Consequently, his hands were shaking, and he didn’t fully trust himself, when he retrieved his phone and turned it on. As soon as the screen lit up, he caught his breath. There were already new messages waiting for him: three of them, in fact, and all from Mr. Graves. For a moment, he couldn't even take the words themselves in, so caught up in the stomach-lurching _physical_ pleasure of seeing that the messages were there at all.

 **Mr. Graves**  
_Credence, I hope that wasn't too much excitement for you today._  
  
_Were there any residual issues from your almost-fall? No dizziness or pulled muscles? We certainly can't have you getting injured again._  
  
_Also, I'd like to apologize for your having to see me that way today. You're a gentle person and I'd hate to think that I frightened you._

**Credence**  
_It was an exciting day! But it wasn’t all the bad kind of exciting._  
  
_No injuries, sir, just a lot of gratitude to you for saving me from my own foolishness. So thank you, sir. :) I never got the chance to say so before._  
  
_Please don’t apologize for that, Mr. Graves! I’m so glad I saw. You were magn_  
  
_Impressive_  
  
_And almost dragon-like in a GOOD way. I could never be frightened of you._

 **Mr. Graves**  
_You really do have me nearly at a loss, Credence. So many would still be fuming or at the very least, shocked to have had an unknown co-worker pull a stunt on them like the one Jason did today._  
  
_There was no foolishness on your part in any of that, only a sweetness_  
  
_*sweet-natured willingness to be helpful_  
  
_And then you thank me and say I was like a dragon.… in a good way? I'm not sure I've ever heard such a thing said to me before._  
  
_I'm not sure it's appropriate for me to say, but sometimes I feel that maybe you understand me better than most, if any._

 **Credence**  
_I was frightened at the time, but once you were there, sir, everything was so_  
  
_Was Ok_  
  
_and you make me blush sometimes when you say things like that, even if I can’t believe you mean them._  
  
_I hope i didn’t offend you, with the dragon, but I didn’t understand until today that it might not be a bad nickname at all, but one given to you out of respect and awe_  
  
_I’m in awe, and I wish you had the time to fight all the bullies in the world_  
  
_I’m sure that wasn’t appropriate either_  
  
_I feel you understand me better than anyone too, sir, and I’d be happy to know I could do that for you too. Be the one who understands._

 **Mr. Graves**  
_I'm so glad to know that rather than being the cause of your fear, I was able to chase it away instead._  
  
_You're always so terribly earnest and unguarded and I hate the thought of your being frightened, somehow. People like you shouldn't ever be treated harshly._  
  
_I'm smiling at the mental image of your blush, but why can't you believe I mean what I say? I always say what I mean._  
  
_Are you saying you have others in your life that need chasing off?_  
  
_I like to think that we can be each other's_  
  
_can understand each other, in a lot of ways._

 **Credence**  
_Oh you did, sir. I have to try hard not to think of you as my personal protector, because you have far more important things to do. But I do feel safe with you, always._  
  
_Mr. Graves, I_  
  
_I ddon’t_  
  
_I’m starting to think I can believe you, even when you say such unlikely things no one has ever said to me before._  
  
_I think everyone has people in need of chasing off :)_  
  
_I would like that, sir, very much. I feel I can tell you things I can’t tell anyone else._

 **Mr. Graves**  
_Credence, my goodness. You're such a sweet and gentle person I have to worry a little at your obvious relief when you tell me you feel safe around me._  
  
_And as the Head Chef, I suppose it is my job to be your protector as well as your instructor. I can't imagine much more important than doing my job._  
  
_Unlikely? No one's called you "sweet" before? This simply won't do. If you're not careful, you may have found yourself a nickname as well, where I'm concerned._  
  
_It's… strange but I feel much the same way. You're very easy to talk to and somehow I know the things I say to you stay between us._  
  
_These texts are getting awfully long, Credence. Would it be alright if I call you?_

 **Credence**  
_Oh! I_  
  
_It’s a little difficult. I’ll have to whisper, our walls are very thin._  
  
_Yes, sir, it would be ok_

 **Mr. Graves**  
_Thank you, Credence. I'll speak to you shortly._

Credence stared at the phone in his hand as though he'd never seen it before, heart hammering in his chest. He would have to be so painfully quiet, but it was worth it just knowing he was about to have Mr. Graves' voice, soft and husky, right there in his ear. Just then the phone rang and he answered it with a shaky swipe. 

"Hey," Mr. Graves said before he could really speak, and it was just as good as he knew it would be. "I just figured, we were typing so much, and…. well it wouldn't be the worst thing to hear for myself that you're really okay."

 **Credence**  
“Hello, Mr. Graves. Sorry about the whispering. I’m okay, but now we’re talking, all I can think to say is… are you really going to use a sweet nickname on me? It might make me so flustered, you _will_ need to protect me from injuring myself.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Heh, well… maybe just between us, then. You really are sort of accident prone, aren't you?"

 **Credence**  
“Just between _us_? I’d like that very much. And you’re right, I’m clumsy, but maybe most of all when you’re around, sir.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Well then I'll just have to make sure I'm near enough to catch you, I suppose." *Deep sigh* "Credence, I… I hope this all doesn't seem too much, I mean, I know I'm your immediate supervisor and I really shouldn't be calling you like this, but. It's been a long while since I looked forward to going into work, you know? You're very…. you're easy to talk to. To be around."

 **Credence**  
“Sir… are you saying… I can’t be the reason you’re looking forward to work. I’m just… just me, and you’re so… _so_ …” *Deep breath* “If I remember this during work, you may have to catch me! And I think… I _know_ I’ll remember.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Of course you're the reason, Credence. I mean, at first I was simply happy to have someone on staff who's so keen for the job, but you're… you're a refreshing change both in and outside of work. I'll be honest, and this is probably going to sound a bit dramatic, but I don't really have all that many friends. Having someone text me just to say thanks like you did that first shift, that was... really nice."

 **Credence**  
“Oh, Mr. Graves, I’d love to be your… your friend. I was, and am, so grateful to you, but it’s more than that. I feel so safe with you, and as if, no matter what I say or do, you won’t judge me. I enjoy every minute of my shift, and it’s not just the work, it’s… it’s seeing _you_.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
I would love that so much if I could consider you a friend, and… you _are_ , you are safe with me, always. I think maybe you need someone to keep you safe, I don't know why I feel that, but I _did_ , right away. I don't judge you, of course I don't. I'm just glad to hear you look forward to.. . *Shaky inhalation* "Credence, everyone's always _dreading_ having to see me, you know? And it's…" *Sigh*

 **Credence**  
“Oh, Mr. Graves, have I… have I upset you? I’m so sorry! I can’t imagine anyone dreading to see you! I have to remind myself to concentrate on my work when I see…” *Calming breath* “Just knowing you want to keep me safe means so much to me, sir. It’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever told me.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"God, Credence you really are the sweetest thing. You haven't upset me at all, don't worry. I'm just not used to having someone say such nice things to me, either. Maybe it's going right to my head, but I don't think I care anymore. I just… I want to just let myself have this one good thing. Do you know how I mean?"

 **Credence**  
“You’re making me blush again, sir! You shouldn’t encourage me, or I might go on and on saying nice things to you, and I might even get silly ideas about how you do mean that, about the… good thing.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"There's nothing silly about those ideas, so you just go ahead and keep having them. Credence… _shit_ , I'm only human here. *Swallowing audibly* "Earlier today, when you nearly fell and I… caught you. You felt that too, didn't you? Am I overstepping here? Tell me that wasn't just in my mind, and if it was, I'll never mention it again, I promise."

 **Credence**  
“Oh, Mr. Graves. I’m not sure how to say… what I felt when you rescued me like that. I… I felt so _much_ , and I wanted to stay... there, on that ladder, dizzy or not, because I wasn’t frightened with your arms around me. I don’t think anything could frighten me when you're holding me.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
*Deep, steadying breaths* "I'm…. I'm a little concerned this call could become something else altogether if I'm not very careful here, Credence. Just let me say that having you in my arms, that felt… good. That felt _right_ in a way nothing's really felt in a long time. And I don't know if I have it in me to keep my arms away from you when I see you tomorrow. Is that okay with you, oh… _sweet_ boy, will you let me hold you?"

 **Credence**  
*Panting* “Will you really do that, Mr. Graves? Even if I’m not in any danger, or... or swooning? Though I’m doing that even now, just thinking about you... you holding me in your strong arms. Oh, Mr. Graves, I can hardly wait for tomorrow!”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"I can hardly stand to think of how long this night is going to be, waiting until I can feel you again. I don't know how I'm going to sleep, honestly."

 **Credence**  
“It’s the same for me, Mr. Graves. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep at all! If I do, I hope I’ll dream of you, dear, _dear_ Mr. Graves.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Please, call me Percival. That's… that's my name. I hope to God I dream about you tonight, I know that much."

 **Credence**  
“That would be wonderful… Percival… oh! Like the knight? How perfect. I knew your name would have to be special… Percival… Percival… I might keep saying it until I fall asleep. How could I not dream about you then?”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"God, this call was worth it just to hear you saying my name, even if it was only a whisper. I don't know what you've done to me, Credence, but whatever it is I don't want you to stop."

 **Credence**  
“I won’t, Percival, though I don’t know what I did. I only know what you’ve done to me. I look forward to each day now, because I spend them near you, and I even look forward to evenings, because we do this…” *Unsteady breath* “To talk to you like this… it feels as if you’re here, with me.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"I wish I _were_ there with you. I guess the only thing to do is pry ourselves away long enough to get some rest and when we wake it will be all that much closer until we really are together again."

 **Credence**  
“Yes, we should try. I know I’m going to wake up happy tomorrow, because being in your arms will be the first thing I’ll think of. Goodnight, Sir Percival! I can’t wait to be with you.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Goodnight, my sweet boy. Tomorrow can't come soon enough. Get a good sleep and I'll be with you soon."


	4. Chapter 4

From the moment Credence woke up, he found it nearly impossible to keep the smile off his face. He had, surprisingly, not only slept, but slept better than he could ever remember sleeping. As he went to sleep, he’d imagined himself cradled in Mr. Graves’-- no, in _Percival’s_ arms, and the old, lumpy mattress had been of no concern.

He was up early enough to be given the chore of preparing breakfast, such as it was, and was then told to get on with looking for work without being given time to eat any of the stale bread and hard, dry cheese. Not that he minded. He knew what awaited him at Eclipse, and decent food was only a small part of it.

He made sure to time his departure with his foster mother’s disappearance into the back yard to retrieve laundry, wearing Percival’s shirt while keeping one of his own stuffed into the back of his waistband; it didn’t much matter what state that would be in, as he would only be wearing it on the way home.

The bus ride seemed to take twice as long as usual, though he knew that was only in his imagination, as was his fear that something would prevent him from getting there. He was getting used to a lot of new things lately, but believing in luck was the hardest of them all; his life had simply never been that way.

Jacob and two of the other staff arrived almost at the same moment he did, and the whole group went in the back, with Credence excusing himself as soon as he’d dropped off his old shirt in his locker. He pretended to head for the bathroom, then veered off into Percival’s office and approached the desk.

Even without the man there, his presence seemed to fill the space, from the orderly files and shelves to the pristine desk and the sleek black leather jacket hanging on a coat rack in the corner.

Credence tiptoed over to it and ran his fingers over the smooth material, then leaned in and nuzzled into the lining, inhaling deeply. The scents of leather and whatever divine cologne it was Percival used clung to the fabric and made him sigh softly. He peered over the collar and saw his breakfast plate waiting for him on the desk, covered again and, with a smile, went to find out what awaited him today.

He lifted the dome to see another croissant--chocolate this time, to his delight. It was surrounded by a ring of fresh raspberries, and there was a red napkin on the edge of the plate with a note tucked under it. He unfolded it with shaking hands, feeling short of breath.

_I heard your delighted little moan when you ate yesterday’s treat. Here are more sweets for my sweet. P_

Credence’s heart was pounding when he tucked the note into his shirt pocket. He wanted nothing more than to go in search of Percival, whom he knew to always have a number of things to do in the kitchen at the start of shift, but he decided not to let the thoughtfully provided warm croissant with its half-melted chocolate chips go to waste. He ate it, alternating his bites with the raspberries he slipped between his lips. He closed his eyes in bliss at the mingled flavours, but he wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t hear the assured footsteps approaching, or failed to hear the soft click of the door being closed.

“Don’t turn around,” Percival said, his voice low and impossible to disobey.

Credence was breathing hard, his chocolate-smeared thumb tip between his lips. He suckled on it and then slowly pulled it out. He could positively feel Percival’s presence moving closer in that way he felt his gaze out in the kitchen, except now it was not merely a pleasant and comforting warmth, but a low thrum of excitement as well. He was almost, but not quite, able to suppress a gasp when strong hands cupped his shoulders.

“That was an interminably long night,” Percival confided. He was leaning close, his lips almost touching Credence’s ear.

“Yes,” Credence agreed, closing his eyes. He shivered when the hands slowly moved down his arms, the palms warm through his shirt. Fingertips lightly tickled the insides of his elbows at the edge of the rolled up fabric, and he tried to suppress a giggle.

Percival sounded amused when he said, “That’s as cute as your blush.”

“Percival…” Credence said very softly, just as the hands slid below his elbows and lifted his forearms to fold them in front of him, and he found himself surrounded by Percival’s scent and warmth.

“Mmm… it’s even better to hear you say my name like that.” Percival’s voice was deeper than Credence had ever heard it. “Sweet boy.” He moved forward so they were pressed together, and his arms closed tightly around Credence. “ _My_ sweet boy.”

Credence exhaled with a moan and a shudder. Now that he knew it was not only allowed but welcome, he fully leaned into Percival, his head tipped back to rest on a broad shoulder.

“God, Credence. It feels so _right_ to hold you in my arms.”

Percival’s breath was hot, even on his heated cheek, and it was only with great effort that Credence managed to open his eyes to thin slits, like a cat being held and snuggled. “Feels better than anything,” he whispered, and turned his face a little to nuzzle against the tanned neck, breathing in the same comforting scent he’d found on Percival’s jacket.

He heard Percival's sharp intake of breath, felt the brush of his stubbled jaw as the man tilted his head back to pant at the air. "Oh… _Credence_ ," he groaned, pulling him up against his chest even tighter before burying his face into the curls just above his ear. Credence had never heard his name spoken that way: on a broken rasp, breathed out like a last desperate prayer. 

"I don't know how I'm going to do this shift today," Percival went on to say. "I don't even know how I'm going to let you go and move from this spot. How has it only been three days since I met you? I feel like I've been waiting a lifetime to have you close to me like this." 

Percival's lips brushed along the shell of his ear and Credence--he lost his grip on himself entirely and bleated out a wanton sound of encouragement, tilting his head to allow further exploration. 

"Credence, I'm going to turn you around now," Percival told him, voice coming all at once in a breathy rush. "I'm going to turn you around and then I'm going to kiss that sweet mouth senseless." 

"Oh sir, _please!_ " Credence started to beg, but already the man had spun him round in his grip and before another word could leave him Percival's mouth was pressed hot and searching against his own. His knees began to buckle; his first kiss and from such a _man_ , such a perfect knight. He gripped at Percival's shoulders, whimpering and parting his lips to let the man guide it into something deep and so searingly good it was almost _lewd_. 

"Credence," Percival panted, pressing him up against the desk only to lift him onto it… _how strong he is_ , Credence thought, and moaned again. "Credence, _god_ … you sweet creature. I want you so, so badly. Boy, I want you for my _own_." 

Credence gasped out his approval of that claim, his fingertips digging into the firm shoulders just as Percival’s hands took hold of his hips.

He pressed into Credence where he perched on the desk’s edge and buried his face in the boy’s neck with a groan. “You like that idea, hmm?”

“Yes!” Credence breathed. “Oh, Percival, yes I do.” Tender lips kissed the skin of his neck, moving from spot to spot as if each inch might taste different to the last. His pulse was fluttering with mad excitement, like the heart of a nightingale encountering the dawn for the first time.

“You’re so responsive, _darling_ boy,” Percival praised against his skin. “You’re driving me mad.”

Credence’s fingers scrambled along Percival’s shoulders, towards his neck. He made a pleased sound when Percival shivered at the touch of his fingers on bare skin and plucked up his courage to lean in and press his lips to the man’s chin; he missed and got his jaw, but moved up to his cheek with soft, shy butterfly kisses.

“ _God_ , Credence!” Percival turned his face and captured his lips again with his own, his hands sliding under Credence to pull him even closer, lifting him up a little at the same time.

Credence’s groan would have alerted the whole kitchen staff, had it not been swallowed by Percival. His hands were around Percival’s neck now, and he clung to him with his arms and legs like a monkey. His mouth was open and being plundered, and he could only try to keep up.

When they came up for breath, Percival pressed his cheek to Credence’s, panting hard and not allowing an inch between them. “If we keep this up, baby…” he said with obvious effort, “I’m going to stake my claim to you right here and now.”

Whimpering, Credence offered, “I wouldn’t mind.”

With a soft huff of laughter against the base of Credence’s neck, where the shirt had pulled away and the collar scrunched up, Percival moved his hands around Credence’s sides and forward. He reluctantly put just enough space between them to let his hands--fingers splayed--slide up over his ribcage while he met the wide, dark eyes.

“Percival,” Credence murmured, a plea for more, his head tilting in soft enquiry.

Groaning, Percival stroked his thumbs up and down over his sternum, feeling how Credence was struggling for breath. “It’s a nice desk,” he said, with a shaky smile, “but not nice enough for something as momentous as making you mine.”

Credence, flushed, licked his lips, which felt too dry and were aching for Percival’s again already. "But… but you will? Make me _yours_?" he couldn't help asking hopefully. "Soon?" 

"God, Credence, when you say things like that…" Percival mouthed at the base of his throat, running his tongue once or twice over the shuddering pulse there. "You're absolutely vibrating, sweet thing. You're trembling like a leaf." 

"It… it feels. You feel so good, Percival, I can't… I feel crazy, I don't know what to do." He chased Percival's mouth with his own, catching it with a stifled little cry. The spots of colour high on his cheeks nearly _burned_ with their heat and he felt it slowly spreading beneath the collar of his rucked-up shirt. Percival's shirt--the realization striking him hard enough to bring him… _close_ to some crucial point already. A whine escaped his throat before he could stop it, and he understood vaguely that he was gently rocking in place where he perched on the desk, but he didn't care.

Percival broke the kiss long enough to look into his face with an expression something like awe. He glanced down between them to where Credence was softly rutting and wiped his hand roughly over his own mouth, like an addict suddenly tempted beyond retrieval. "Credence… you… _Jesus_." 

"I'm sorry," Credence moaned, abruptly worried he was _too much_ somehow in his total lack of control. "I just _want_ you, I want you everywhere… I can't stand it." 

There seemed to be a touch of resolution in Percival's eyes when they met Credence's again. Some silent decision made. "Oh, you ab- absolute _miracle_ ," he breathed. "We can't have you going into that kitchen like this, can we?" 

Credence shook his head, eyes enormous. "I'm- I'm sorr-" 

"No." Percival insisted, and his tone was final. He steadied Credence's rolling hips with one hand and met his mouth again as he palmed over his aching hardness with the other. "Don't ever be sorry for wanting me, Credence. For being mine. Will you let me help you with this?" 

Eyes clamped shut, Credence gasped and bucked into the touch--those skilled, strong hands that until now he'd only dreamed of--holding him firm and safe and bringing such pleasure he could barely take a breath. "Oh _please_ ," he begged, "please, sir… _anything._ "

“I’m still ‘sir’?” Percival sounded amused, even while his voice cracked a little at Credence’s desperate pleas and the way he thrust towards him.

“Is that okay?” Credence asked, left hand patting aimlessly at the arm between them. “It feels right, somehow.”

Percival gave a low rumble, his hand tightening until Credence moaned. “Whatever feels right, that’s what we do… okay?”

“Mmm,” Credence agreed, biting down on his lip to keep from crying out with the next squeeze.

“We’re taking chances here with the state of your trousers,” Percival told him, even as he let go and took hold of the zip. He drew it down slowly, letting his knuckles graze over the confined bulge, then quickly and efficiently undid the belt and button.

Credence gasped with relief, his darkened eyes fixed on Percival’s face as he slid his hand behind the thin, washed out layer of cotton. He whimpered, a jolt going through his whole body, at the first stroke. He was already leaking, had been for several minutes, but he didn’t have time to feel ashamed for it.

“What a state I’ve put you in,” Percival said, giving him a slow smile. “If you went into the kitchen like this, things, and even people, might catch fire.”

“Oh,” Credence whispered softly, almost afraid to make a sound or do anything that might cause Percival to take his hand off him. He needn’t have worried.

With a movement quick enough that Credence couldn’t quite work out what had happened, Percival had withdrawn him from the folds of fabric completely, but then simply looked at the twitching, flushed cock in his hand. “You’re just perfect all over, aren’t you?”

Credence shook his head in disbelief, but Percival would have none of it.

“Yes, you are. Just watch…” Percival stroked his length, sticky and hot and so close to erupting. “Watch, my sweet.”

Credence focused on the strong, _beautiful_ hand and the tender way it cradled him. He was panting hard, each stroke making it more difficult to keep his eyes focused. 

“Watch... “ Percival’s strokes sped up, and he began to add smooth caresses across the tip, keeping his grasp wet and sticky and sliding slickly along Credence’s entire length.

“Oh, Percival, I--” Credence’s hand tightened on the hard-working forearm, but not to push it away. “I can’t--”

“Can’t hold on?” Percival asked, tilting his head to catch the lowered eyes. “That’s okay, sweet thing, just keep watching.”

“Mm…” Credence did keep watching, but his jaw had dropped and the flush on his cheeks was covering his whole face now.

“Come on, baby, almost there.”

“Oh, sir, _sir!_ ” He jolted, inadvertently pushing harder into the grip, shifting Percival’s hand right to the base.

“Yes, that’s it. So close… come for me, baby,” Percival demanded, his voice low and rough. “Let me see how much you want this.”

“I do, I _do!_ ” His voice more of a broken, needy whine, Credence rutted into the stroking hand once, twice more, and with a groan, he spilled over Percival’s long fingers.

“God, so beautiful! You’re so beautiful, my sweet Credence.” Percival didn’t stop stroking, milking every last drop from him until Credence’s essence pearled over his knuckles, seeped through his fingers, coated his whole palm. He leaned in for another deep, searching kiss before the flow had stopped, and it seemed to extend it further.

When Credence’s slack lips were finally released, he sat flushed, glassy-eyed, his dark curls damp along his temples and at the base of his nape “Oh…” was all he managed in a soft peep of a voice.

Percival smiled, if a little strained. He very slowly released the now limp cock and lifted his hand to inspect it.

Astonishingly, Credence flushed even more deeply as he watched him lick at his fingers. “But… sir…”

Percival met and held his eyes. “You know…” He licked at a knuckle and hummed with satisfaction. “You’re by far the most delicious thing ever served up at Eclipse.”

Credence looked at him in astonishment. He only hesitated for a second before he parted his lips to the index and middle fingers sliding between them. He wasn’t sure he liked the taste, but he loved the way Percival’s eyes went nearly black when he sucked, hard.

With Percival's salty-slick fingers against his tongue, Credence realized it was likely the way the man himself tasted, as well... that the weight of his warm digits might be what it's like to have _him_ in his mouth. The absolute _sinfulness_ of that thought, the knowledge that he could do it if he only asked had him moaning with a sharp twist of fresh arousal, gripping Percival's wrist and curling his tongue around his fingertips hungrily. 

" _Shit_ ," Percival hissed, pupils wide and neck brightly splotched with colour where his collar slightly parted. "Credence, you're gonna make me come in my pants like a teenager here." 

Credence pulled back from the glistening fingers with a soft _pop_ , panting at Percival's avid gaze while he reached a tentative hand towards the fly of his trousers. "I still want you," he gasped, "I… I want to taste you, _too_. Please, sir… you always feed me, you're so good to me…" 

Percival swiped at his mouth once more with a glance to the clock on the wall, frantically considering. His erection visibly strained against his seam and Credence slowly ran the pad of his thumb along its length, salivating at the way it twitched towards his touch as though it wanted him just as badly. 

"Oh, _fuck it_ ," Percival said, swiftly unzipping. "I don't even care if I get fired at this point, your sweet mouth is worth it." 

Breathless, eyelashes fluttering, Credence watched enraptured as Percival drew himself free. He'd never seen another man's cock in the flesh before; every inch was perfect, strong and solid as its owner. _Handsome_ , even. He stepped down from the desk and knelt between Percival's feet, weak as his knees were. Percival was shaking, trembling head to toe as Credence leaned forward to press a kiss against the plush head, holding his gaze with upturned eyes. He could barely believe the man was so shaken over _him_ , that his choked-out whimper sounded close to tears just to be having Credence touch him _there_. 

Percival's hands found his hair, cradled the sides of his face with loving, feather-light caresses. "Oh god baby, I'm not gonna last long," he groaned. 

He didn't know quite what he was doing, but just as it had been when he was hired, Credence wanted nothing more than to apply himself as best he could. He wanted Percival to be _pleased_ with him, to give him that same bone-melting goodness he could still feel moving through himself like a soporific. 

Taking Percival's shaft in a delicate grip at the base, he slid his mouth down slow and loose over as much of the length as he could take. Once he'd reached about halfway, he pulled back, tonguing firmly against the underside only to feel a quick pulse of that same salty fluid. 

"Oh _god_ , baby that's it," Percival groaned in a voice that had turned deeper and more tortured than anything he'd yet heard from him. "Keep looking at me, sweetheart, keep your eyes on mine. I want you to see me when I come, you need to know what you do to me, oh…. _fuck_." 

Credence was shaking just as hard with the thrill, the intensity of what was building up between them. There would be no sating it, he understood that now. It would only build and build, each little touch and glance just water on a grease fire. He kept his eyes locked on Percival's, watched the astonished desire and the possession and the raging heat. 

"Oh baby, oh Credence _please_ … oh that's it, I'm yours, that's _it… good boy, FUCK…_ " 

Percival spilled hot into his open mouth and Credence swallowed eagerly, finding he'd already grown accustomed to the taste.

When he pulled back, blinking up at Percival with feverish eyes and glistening lips, he was raised up and kissed breathless, then drawn into Percival’s arms. Warm breath moved through his curls, hands cradling his head and stroking his back, while Credence wrapped his arms around his middle.

“My sweet baby,” Percival murmured. “I mean it, you know. I’m yours, just like you’re mine.” When Credence sighed happily and tightened his arms, nuzzling into him, Percival laughed softly. “You’re just like a kitten.” He held him tight and sighed. “How am I going to keep my hands off you all day now, hmm? Tell me that.”

Credence smiled against the side of his neck. “Don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Percival lifted Credence’s face in both hands and looked at him so tenderly, it almost hurt. “Oh, Credence…” His thumbs brushed along Credence’s lower lip, and he was about to speak, when there was a knock on the door.

Credence went stiff with fright, but Percival slowly shook his head and smiled.

“I’m busy. I’ll be out soon,” he called out.

“Mr. Graves, Credence came in with us earlier, but he’s disappeared again. We’re getting kinda worried.” It was Jacob.

“He’s with me. We’re settling a few details about his contract. Get back to work, Jacob, we’ll be there shortly.”

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Graves.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Credence looked at Percival. “I was afraid he’d just come in.”

“He wouldn’t dare. I’m a dragon, remember?” Percival said, promptly smiling in a way that proved him a liar.

Giggling, Credence watched, and greatly enjoyed, as Percival tidied him up, tucking clothes into place and brushing back his hair with his fingers.

“There, a perfect angel again.” Percival winked at him and made him blush, then quickly put himself together, with Credence trying to help, to his amusement.

It was well into the shift when they finally both made it into the kitchen, and there was no denying that the looks they got were more than a little confused and curious.

“Doesn’t anybody have any work to do around here?” Percival snapped. 

Credence suppressed a smile and hurried to the nearest chopping board.

“Sorry, Mr. Graves, we’re just glad our mascot hasn’t gone missing after all!” Jacob called out, patting Credence on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Jacob,” Percival said, “He survived the dragon cave with nothing worse than toasty toes. Right, Credence?” That last was said in a soft, confidential voice.

Credence bit his lip and nodded when Jacob, along with everyone else, paled at the realisation that their boss was well aware of his nickname. 

But they weren’t yet done being surprised because, seeing their expressions of horror, and meeting Credence’s amused gaze, Percival made Eclipse history and laughed out loud. And Credence knew, without a shadow of doubt, that _he_ had done that. He, Credence Barebone, was making this wonderful man _happy_. He met the sparkling dark eyes, his face nearly splitting with his own happiness at the realisation.

Concentrating on work was only possible for Credence because much of his work was repetitive and therefore almost meditative; he had to make an effort not to look at Percival, or to think about him… about _them_... and what might happen next, or he would be in real danger of cutting off his own fingers.

His friends, and several of his other co-workers, had him surrounded at lunch, and he could only hope none of them noticed how flustered he became when Percival crossed the break room, lingering for a moment by the door to give him a wink.

It was well into the afternoon when he heard the beloved voice addressing him directly again. “Credence? Store room.” 

That was it, no reason or explanation given. Percival was the head chef, he didn’t need to explain himself; a little rush of heat at the man’s power and confidence went through Credence, and he obeyed hurriedly, avoiding everyone’s eyes on the way out of the kitchen.

The store room door slammed shut the moment he entered, and he found himself pressed back against it. Percival’s hot lips were on his mouth, his tongue thrusting inside. One hand ran up into Credence’s hair, the other was on his waist. 

Credence whimpered, clutching at him and opening himself to him, until they were both flushed and panting hard. 

“This job is absolute torture today. I’ve wanted to do that for hours,” Percival growled at him, “since the moment I had to let you leave my office.”

Credence smiled, and the corner of his smile was promptly kissed. “I didn’t want to leave, Percival. I don’t want to be where I can’t see and touch you.”

“God, don’t tell me that.” Laughing huskily, Percival leaned his forehead against Credence’s. “I’m already tempted to shut the place down for the rest of the day and just take you home with me.”

Credence gasped. “You… you want me to…”

“Oh _baby_ , I want you in my arms every moment I don’t have to wield a spatula or a pastry brush.”

A touch of nerves crept in on Credence's glowing happiness, like a sliver of cold water swirling through a warm bath. Somehow he hadn't considered it, the thought that Percival would want to bring him home, would want to see him outside of work. 

He couldn't make an excuse with Mary Lou for such a late absence, but neither could he explain to Percival the way things were at home. The pressures and delicate rules he had to navigate there, the reason why he'd needed this job so badly in the first place. What would Percival think of him then? Would he find him weak, or sad? 

"I… " he smiled and shrugged a little nervously, nuzzling his face into the crook of Percival's neck placatingly. It helped to be able to hide his face. "Percival, I can't go to your… to your house, not tonight, at least." 

Percival leaned back to look in his face anyhow, brows creased in a frown of perplexity. "Really?" he asked. "How come?" 

"Um, because I live with my family right now and I have to um… after work I have to take care of my sisters until ma gets back, and--" 

"Oh… _Credence_ ," Percival said softly with a kiss to his temple. He was starting to really love the way it sounded, the way the man said his name like that. When they met each other's eyes again, Percival was smiling, almost as if the news pleased him rather than disappointed. 

"Of course it would be something like that," he said. "Of course you're an angel even when you're out of my sight. My hard working boy. Is that… is that why you have to be so quiet at night, when we're talking?" 

Credence breathed a sigh of relief, grasping swiftly at Percival's good-natured understanding. "Yes," he said. "The church is really old and the walls are thin, I don't want to wake anyone up." 

"The church?" Percival asked, brows rising. "That's where you live? I mean, when we're talking on the phone, when you say you want to be held by me…. you're saying those things in a church?" 

Immediately Credence blushed, certain that Percival must be scandalized, must be bound to question what kind of boy he is. "Yeah, I mean… it's not like--" 

Percival's mouth was on his again, strong hands cupping his jaw tenderly. He let himself melt into the kiss, unable and unwilling to ever question it--only to accept the gift as it was offered. 

"Credence…" Percival breathed against his lips. "You said you didn't know anyone else like you, until we began speaking. And all that time, you've been in a church, keeping your feelings all to yourself… God, you told me you want me right underneath the steeple where you live, you _brave_ , beautiful, wonderful boy." 

"What…?" Credence stared at him wide-eyed, hardly able to catch up to Percival's way of seeing things. "I didn't… I just told the truth." 

"And you're amazing for having done it, Credence. I don't even know how to tell you how honoured I am, to be the one you want. To know you want me badly enough to whisper it to me in a _church_." 

Credence could feel his blush heating up, so unused to such fervent praise. He smiled and shrugged, at a loss for words. 

"Well, how about this, Credence?" Percival asked. "I always take Thursdays off, before the weekend madness. And now so do you. What do you think, do you want to spend some time with me tomorrow?" 

Percival might as well have asked if he wanted the stars plucked out of the night sky for him. Credence gave him a luminous smile and threw his arms around his neck, then rained kisses all over his face, making him laugh that warm, soft laugh of his.

“I think that’s a ‘yes’,” Percival said.

“Yes!” Credence confirmed eagerly. “Yes, yes, _yes._ ”

Percival moved him just far enough back to cup his cheek and look deep into his eyes. “God, there’s just something about you, Credence...” he started softly, “it’s not just that you’re sweet and gentle and so, so lovely. Don’t blush now, you are.” He laughed. “You’re also vulnerable, and innocent. It’s all quite a combination.” His voice had dropped, and he cleared his throat. “And if we don’t go back to what’s left of this shift now, one of your friends will come looking for you again.”

***

Ma made him handle the soup kitchen single-handedly that night, with Chastity sending out letters asking for donations, and Modesty being punished for heaven knew what with a tiny piece of bread so dry that it crumbled, and a send-off to bed almost as soon as Credence got home.

“I can’t believe you still don’t have a job,” ma said. “I’m getting fed up providing for you. You’re old enough to provide for me.”

Credence didn’t point out that the only things she provided for him was a rickety roof over his head and cast offs donated to the church, and food if it was spare and too unappealing to give to anyone else. “Yes, ma,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m trying as hard as I can.”

She scoffed, but at least she left him alone for the evening.

After sneaking a tiny piece of cheese to Modesty, hoping it might be assumed mice got hold of it, he went to his room and turned off the light. He prayed loudly enough for ma to hear him as she went past his door, then sat on his bed until all was quiet. Only then did he retrieve his phone.

There was a message from Percival, of course, asking him to text when it was convenient to do so. So he did. 

As soon as his answer came through, there he was. As though he'd been eagerly waiting. Credence grinned to himself in the glow of the phone's screen at the thought of being waited  
on by someone as wonderful as Percival.

 **Mr. Graves**  
_There you are, my busy boy. :) <3 Your sisters must be quite a handful. _  
  
_Can I call you again? Just to hear your voice for a moment before we can see each other tomorrow…_

 **Credence**  
_Okay, if you don’t mind the whispering too much. Sorry it got late, I was helping in the soup kitchen._

Without any answering text, the phone began to vibrate in his hands, so eager was Percival to hear him just as he'd said.

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Hi baby, how's my sweet angel? God, I've been thinking about you all evening, not like that's any change from the usual, heh."

 **Credence**  
“Oh, Percival, I’ve missed you so! I can’t think about anything but you anymore.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Same, sweetheart. Oh, man. You just don't know what you've done to me, Credence. Hell, even I don't know. I just know nobody's touched me like you do since…. actually... I don't think anyone's _ever_ got to me the way you do."

 **Credence**  
“I feel like I’m in a dream and about to wake up. The last few days have been like a miracle, Percival. I… I’m so afraid I’ll wake up and you won’t even know me. I’m sorry, it’s just overwhelming to suddenly feel... happy.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"I wasn't exactly living on cloud nine myself, until you showed up in my kitchen. When I first saw you, Credence… the new kid on shift, _god_ , I thought I was dreaming, too. Right away, I felt like I needed to be close to you, just tying up your apron for an excuse to linger. The way you kept calling me _sir…_ "

 **Credence**  
“That’s when it happened for me too, _sir._ When you touched me that first day, tying my apron. I thought you were so handsome, but then, when I felt your _touch_ , so warm and sure, it was as if I… please don’t laugh, Percival, but it was as if I’d come home.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"That's _it_ , baby, that's it exactly! Even just that little closeness, it felt so right. Just taking care of you, putting you together. I… god, please don't think badly of me, but I couldn't help thinking about what it would be like to dress you like that… after undressing you first. I tried to put you out of my mind, I didn't think there was a hope in hell I could actually have you. But then you texted me that night."

 **Credence**  
“I could never think badly of you, Percival, never! You’re so good to me, and you want to take care of me, which… is… oh, you _can_ have me. I _want_ to be yours. I’m wanton and wicked for saying that, I know, but now I’m sure I won’t be able to get the idea of you undressing me out of my mind, and you can imagine how much I’m blushing now!”

 **Mr. Graves**  
*Soft sigh* "I want to kiss that blushing skin, I want to follow that blush everywhere it leads. You can be as wanton and wicked as you want to be, with me, and I'm sure whatever I'm thinking is ten times worse. Ohhh, what you did to me today… _Credence_. I want to do that to you, where there's no need to keep quiet, no holding back or fears of getting caught."

 **Credence**  
*Stifled moan* “When you talk like that, Percival, I can almost feel you. I _do_ feel you, like that rush of heat when opening one of the big ovens, crawling all over my skin, but it’s so, _so good_ , and maybe it’s hellfire I’m feeling, but I don’t care. I’d _burn_ for you, Percival. I _am_ burning for you.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Hhhh… Credence I can't even talk on the phone with you without losing my goddamn mind. *Heavy breath, rustling movement* Oh god, I'm so hard for you baby, so hard it _hurts_. If I can't touch you with my hands, let me do it with my voice instead."

 **Credence**  
“Oh god, Percival, but how… oh. _Ohhh!_ Are you… Please, I want... “*Panting hard* “I want you so badly, _sir_ … please, tell me… tell me how you want to touch me… tell me _where!_ Please.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
*Licking lips and swallowing* "Baby, you know how I touched you today, with my hands on you. Ohhh, you were like silk against my palm, all slick and needing me like that, with your pretty eyelashes fluttering… Sweetheart, I want you to feel that too, I want you to take yourself in hand like it was me. Can you do that for me baby?"

 **Credence**  
“But Percival, I’ve never… never done that. I… I’ll try, I want to, for you.” *Rustling of fabric and soft, muffled cry* “Oh! I… I’m imagining it’s _your_ hand… on me, your strong, warm hand, doing wonderful things to me again. I love your hands so much… how they take care of me and…” *Whimper”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"My sweet boy, you don't know how much it means to me that you'd do this when you never have before, just for me. I can hardly believe you're real, you're so perfect. And I _do_ want to take care of you, with my hands and my mouth and my… my heart, baby boy. Do you feel good, with my hand on you like that?"

 **Credence**  
“Feel _so_ good, Percival, but I want to make you feel good too. Are _you_ … touching yourself, wishing it was me? Want your hands and your mouth everywhere. Want _all_ of you, and to give you all of me. I… I’d do anything for you, anything you ask.” *Soft sighs and moans* “I love how you talk to me... how you praise me and make me feel special. I’m not, but you… you _are_.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Of course I'm touching myself, baby, right where your sweet lips were, oh…. _so many_ hours ago. How could I hold back with you moaning so soft for me on the line like this? You made me feel so good today… _god_. I thought I was gonna lose my mind. Don't say you're not special, Credence, you're--" *groans* "Oh you're the _most_ special, there's nobody like you, my good boy…. perfect angel."

 **Credence**  
*Suppressed sobs and gasps* “The way you looked at me when you… oh, Percival! I felt _shamefully_... proud, that I could make you feel so good. Uh!” *Soft lip smacks* “I’m trying my… my own taste again, but I like yours so much better.”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Are you really doing that? My sexy boy… I can't imagine anything that tastes better than you, but I'll believe you for now." *Breath hitching rhythmically* "I was proud of you for that, too, baby… and so proud you wanted to make me feel like that, you're so unselfish. How did I get so lucky?" *Sucking in a sharp breath* "Sweetheart, I'm close, I'm really close here…"

 **Credence**  
“You… you are?” *Gasps* “Perci-val, I… uh… the things you say to me, and your _voice_ , I.... I can see you, if I close my eyes, I can _almost_ see you… as if you’re right here, with me, and… oh… oh _sir! Aah!”_ *Muffled groan*

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Oh I am, baby, I'm right there with you. You're not alone, you're never alone, not anymore. _Uh… ahh, fuck…_ " *Voice breaking* "Baby, I'm so…. oh, please come with me. I wanna hear you come before I sleep tonight."

 **Credence**  
“Oh Percival… I… oh, hold me, please, please, _hold me!_ I want to be in your arms when I… when… Please let me hear you too. Ohh, I’m… uhh… oh _god!_ ” *Soft cry*

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Credence, Credence I'm with you, I'm holding you… _uh, GOD s-so good baby_ , you sound like heaven… _hnnggg fuck_ " *Long shuddering breath*

 **Credence**  
*Panting* “That was so good, Percival. I can’t wait to really be in your arms again. I don’t want to be anywhere else. When… when can I see you tomorrow, and how?”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Sweetheart, if that's what it's like just over the phone…." *Panting* "I want to see you as soon as possible, how about the time you usually start your shift? I can… I'll meet you in the little park half a block from Eclipse. If that works for you. Heh, I'll even push you on the little swing set, if you like."

 **Credence**  
“Yes please! I’d like that.” *Slightly breathless giggling* I’ll be there, Percival. I can’t wait to see you and, you know, maybe… other things too. Goodnight, dear Sir Percival!”

 **Mr. Graves**  
"Goodnight baby, I think the both of us are going to sleep beautifully tonight. And then tomorrow, we'll be together again."


	5. Chapter 5

It was a close thing, in the morning, to not get caught sneaking downstairs to the laundry before anyone else was even up, but Credence breathed a sigh of relief when the load containing his pyjamas started turning over in the washing machine, just as Mary Lou called out from the kitchen, demanding to know why he hadn’t started making breakfast yet. 

Credence went to face her. “I wanted to start some laundry before I go out looking for work, ma, to save you time later.” He cringed internally. He hated lying, even if only to keep the number of painful encounters with his foster mother to a minimum.

“See to it that you try harder today,” she told him.

“Yes, ma.”

There was some spare gruel for breakfast, and she absently pushed it before him. The sight of the grey, lumpy sludge nearly made him sick, and he realised that his newfound familiarity with delicious food was making him spoiled. He ate it, however, without shuddering too obviously, as he figured there certainly would be no breakfast waiting for him in the park.

It was hard to keep from smiling at the thought of seeing Percival soon, outside work no less, but he could do nothing about the way his heart rate sped up at the mere memory of their sinful and _wonderful_ phone call last night.

“You’re bright red, Credence,” Chastity said with an arched brow that implied he was offending her personally.

Mary Lou looked at him suspiciously, and he managed to produce a minor coughing fit. He reached for his glass of water, drank, then explained, “Sorry. I was trying to suppress the cough.” He chided himself internally for not keeping better control of his emotions.

***

After breakfast, he took the first opportunity to disappear and hurry to catch his usual bus. He made it to the stop outside Eclipse at the usual time and started walking towards the small park Percival had suggested as their meeting place.

He spotted the swing set Percival had talked about and, more importantly, he spotted Percival, who was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, dressed more casually than usual in a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt underneath his leather jacket. Credence’s face broke into a smile even as his breath caught at the look in Percival’s eyes.

Percival uncrossed his arms and opened them to him, and Credence ran to him and flung himself into the welcoming embrace.

“There you finally are again,” Percival murmured with a pleased sigh and tightened his arms, “right where you belong.”

“Oh, Percival, I’ve missed you,” Credence confessed, hoping he didn’t sound too silly, considering they’d… talked only just before going to sleep. He needn’t have worried.

“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.” Percival’s voice was soft and tender. “I feel as if I’m just holding my breath while we’re apart and I can’t breathe in your sweetness.”

Credence clung to him, smiling into the collar of his jacket, until Percival eventually pushed him back just far enough to seek out his lips with his own, and Credence moaned at the way the soft glow inside him ignited into a flame in an instant.

Percival clutched a handful of curls at the back of Credence’s head and groaned. He deepened the kiss until the long legs almost buckled, and they did a 180 degree turn.

Credence ended up pressed back into the frame of the swing set and made a soft sound of surprise.

Percival instantly drew back. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Smiling, Credence touched his cheek. “Never.” His hand was taken and pressed firmly against the freshly shaved skin.

“I can’t believe I’m tempted to ravish you in a public park on a child’s swing. This won’t do.” Percival looked a little horrified with himself, which made Credence giggle.

“You promised me a swing, Percival,” he reminded.

“Oh, I hadn’t forgotten.” Percival composed himself, smiled, and took Credence’s hand, leading him around the green-painted metal frame work. “Have a seat.”

Credence settled himself into a swing, choosing the highest one so that he might accommodate the length of his legs on a contraption designed with children in mind. And he _did_ feel quite like a child, silly and expectant in a way that was altogether pleasant, just knowing it was Percival he was allowed to be so childish with. 

"I'm usually the one pushing Modesty on something like this," he said, as Percival came up to stand indulgently behind him. The man leaned forward to brush the lightest of kisses to the nape of his neck and a thrill went through him, swooping giddily enough to rival the swing itself.

Percival stepped back, taking the swing along with him by the chains to give it a light push. "And Modesty is one of your sisters?" he asked. "How many of these sisters are there?"

"There's two," Credence answered, giggling a little now that he was honestly being pushed on a swing in the park by his… _boyfriend_. "Modesty is the youngest."

"She must be, if you're taking her to the park and pushing her on the swings." Percival gave Credence a light shove with a little more exuberance to it, bringing him higher off the ground this time.

"Yeah, but not often, only when ma's not around to--" he cut himself off, realizing what he'd been about to say. 

"When ma's not around to what?" Credence could hear the smile in Percival's voice, knowing the whole while he was simply happy to learn about what he believed was Credence's perfectly normal life.

"Just…. when she's not around to do it herself, I guess." It was all he could think of.

Percival didn’t immediately respond. When he did, he sounded concerned. “Credence, is everything all right at--?”

“Of course!” Credence said quickly. “This is really fun,” he added, beaming back at Percival over his shoulder. He was desperate for a change of subject, but his delight at the moment was genuine.

Percival’s slight frown relaxed, and he caught the swing seat this time, pulling it back a little further yet and pushing harder, before stepping aside to watch as Credence swang forward and well up off the ground.

Credence laughed, leaning back a little while stretching his legs out in front of himself. He’d had no idea it could be so much fun to do something so completely ridiculous and useless, just for the sheer joy of it. He swung back and forth a few times, gaining momentum, until the morning breeze blew his curls back from his face on each forward swing, then over his forehead on each backward swing, and then he looked sideways at Percival, whose gaze was fixed on his face with an expression which would have effectively taken Credence’s breath away, if his wild swings weren’t doing it already.

“God, you’re so beautiful, Credence,” Percival said, sounding awed. “You look like a fairy prince who just happened to wander into a city park, and I was lucky enough to find him.”

“Percival,” Credence murmured, ducking his head and looking bashful. He met the adoring eyes again, and there was nothing but sincerity in them. He felt dizzy with happiness. And, he realised, with increasing disorientation.

His expression must have given him away, because Percival tensed up and asked, “Do you need to stop?”

“I… yes, I think so,” Credence said, and Percival was behind him in a moment, grasping the seat on either side of him firmly and arresting his movement in midair. Credence leaned back against him and took a few deep breaths.

“I’m an idiot. I never considered your vertigo,” Percival said, sounding annoyed with himself.

“I shouldn’t have looked sideways,” Credence admitted.

“You’re okay now, baby?” When Credence nodded, Percival very gently guided the swing seat forward, until the chains hung straight and Credence could stand. He did so, with a little wobble, and Percival instantly pulled him close.

“Did you have breakfast today?”

Credence nodded against his chest. “I did.”

“Really?” The look of worried disbelief on Percival’s face when he lifted Credence’s to meet his eyes was almost amusing.

“Yes, really.” Credence smiled at him.

“Hmm. Well, I think I’d still like to make sure you’re well provided for on your day off too. What would you like to do today? We could have an early lunch somewhere, and--”

“Percival…” Credence looked at him pleadingly.

“What is it, baby?”

Even though his own boldness made him blush, Credence asked, “Can we… I’d like to…” He took a deep breath. “I just want to be alone with you. Can we go… go to your place?”

Percival gave him a look of pure heat. “Yes, we sure can, sweet thing.”

Whether it was the swingset or the knowledge he'd be spending the whole day cloistered alone with Percival, Credence wasn't sure--but either way, he walked alongside the man on legs that felt weak as water all the way to his SUV. 

Percival opened the passenger side door for him, gently helping him to his seat with a kiss to the temple and a hand at the small of his back. Then he made his way around the car and climbed in front of the wheel, himself. The interior smelled clean and new, _expensive_ , and as soon as the driver's side door had clicked shut, Credence gave himself over to the temptation that had been plaguing him all through his fitful rest. 

He leaned across the front seat, reaching for Percival's face with his hands and smiling at how the man had already turned in his direction to do the same. They met someplace in the middle, mouths clumsily finding each other in a frantic kiss full of renewed desperation since their meeting against the swingset. 

Credence was already halfway into his lap right there in the front seat next to the park, panting against his mouth and fogging up the windshield. He wished they could simply blink and be in the man's home already, like that genie girl on TV he'd seen once at a neighbour's house and been soundly beaten for later on. 

"I don't…." he gasped out. "I don't want you to think that I'm _bad_. I just…. after that call last night…" 

"You couldn't think about anything else?" Percival asked him, teasing his bottom lip with a firm little nip. "Me too, baby. You're not bad, far from it. You might think _I'm_ the bad one here, if you knew the things I've been thinking about you all night." 

Credence took a breath and then moaned it back out into the man's collar as the words caught up to him. "About… about things you want to _do_ to me? Wha-- what are you gonna do?" 

Percival's head bumped against the back of the seat, and he groaned out loud, lifting his chin to let Credence bite at the side of his throat. "You wanna hear this? What I'm going to do to you, baby?"

“Please… yes.” Credence soothed his harmless bites with little licks.

“God, you’re driving me mad, right out here in the bright morning light.” Percival groaned.

“Tell me, please,” Credence begged, pressing sweet kisses to the shivering skin.

“Mmm…” Percival cupped the back of his head in the palm of his hand, as if to stop Credence retreating; not that he was considering it. “You’re very hard to resist when you plead, but… ah… wouldn’t you prefer it to be a surprise?”

Whining softly, Credence went back to the biting. “Just a hint?”

Percival chuckled, the vibration under his skin teasing the tender flesh of Credence’s lips, and turned to meet his eyes. “It involves a lot more of your bare skin than I’ve had access to so far.”

Credence looked at him expectantly.

“I want to find out if I can make you blush all over.” When the bright eyes widened, Percival went on, “And if it turns out I _can_ , I’m going to soothe all that flushed skin with my hands and my lips until you’re so dazed with pleasure, you won’t have the energy to blush anymore.”

“Percival…” Credence croaked.

Smirking, Percival went on, “And _then_ , when you’re all pliant and soft and relaxed…” Percival’s hand came to rest on Credence’s left thigh and pulled it slightly away from his right. “Then I’m going to part your legs like this.” His warm palm slid down the firm flesh of Credence’s inner thigh, his knuckles just barely brushing the hard outline of his cock.

Credence moaned out loud. “Oh, I… I’m sorry--”

“Baby…” Percival said in a warm, amused voice, “don’t ever apologise for being turned on by something I do or say. You have no idea how good it makes me feel that I can do that to you.” He squeezed the flesh under his hand gently, watching Credence’s eyes flutter closed, and groaned in sympathy. “Not to mention how beautiful you look like this.” 

"Please… let's go home?" Credence whispered. "I can't wait. Take me home." 

Percival grinned and kissed his lips a few more times before gently guiding him back into his seat. He was so dazed, the man even had to help him on with his seat belt, chuckling softly about it the whole time. 

Somehow, it felt as though the drive to Percival's home was longer than even the entire night of waiting that had preceded it. 

***

Percival's place turned out to be a penthouse apartment in a building that was relatively modest in height, for an area filled with high-rises. All the way up the elevator from the parking garage, the two of them struggled to keep their hands to themselves, inevitably losing the fight about three floors away.

Once out of the elevator, they fumbled their way down the short hall, Credence mostly staggering backwards while Percival steered him towards the door amidst groping kisses. Credence barely was able to take in his surroundings inside the apartment at first; he was far too caught up in the feel of Percival's hungry mouth and stroking palms, pushed up against the wall just inside the front entrance and panting heavily. 

"Oh god, the things I'm gonna do to you," Percival rasped out against his throat, making him shiver. "I've wanted you naked up against me since I first saw you on Sunday and I'm gonna make up for every day since then." 

"Sir, oh please…" Credence clung to him as though he were drowning, afraid if he let go he'd wake up in the church to find this had all been a wonderful dream. "You can… you can do _anything_ , whatever it is, I want it." 

"It shouldn't turn me on so much, hearing you call me sir like that, but it _does_." Percival's hands had found their way underneath his shirt, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking circles against the skin of his slim waist. "You get to touch me too, baby, you know that, right? I want those hands on me so badly, it's all yours."

“Oh! Oh, sir, _sir_ , I’ll call you anything you like. I want to feel you, all of you, all over me, please!”

“Fuck!” Percival, running out of patience, unceremoniously swept Credence up in his arms and carried him down the hall, trying to navigate without disrupting the frantic kisses Credence, with both arms around his neck, kept pressing to his face. “Hang on, baby, I’ve got you,” he reassured. “I’ve got you. I’m going to love you so hard and so sweet and so tender.”

Credence sobbed out loud, and a moment later, he was on Percival’s big, soft, luxurious bed. But he spared it not a moment’s attention when Percival fumbled his buttons open with uncharacteristic clumsiness, then tugged his belt apart. Credence, trying to help, slowed the process down, so he tried to get Percival out of his clothes instead.

They were still partly dressed--shirts half off, trousers open and dragged partway down hips, shoes tumbling off their feet and socks following them with the aid of toes pushing them down--when Percival suddenly stilled completely and just looked into Credence’s eyes.

“Please,” Credence whimpered.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, I just need a moment to be sure you’re real, and I’m not just having the most erotic dream of my life.”

Credence blushed deeply, which caused a husky chuckle.

“I think you’re real enough. Although…” Percival let his eyes roam over Credence’s face, lingering on his lips, sliding over his long neck and coming to rest on his unexpectedly downy chest, tapering down to his flat stomach... his fingers following everywhere his eyes led. “You are… _god_ , Credence, you’re unbelievable!”

Credence took a gasping breath then, his chest rising, and Percival’s attention was caught by one of the tempting, hard nipples, and his lips latched onto it.

“Percival!” Credence cried, bucking up into the suction, his thigh grazing Percival’s cock through the smooth jeans.

Percival groaned. “Baby, careful with that. It’s hard enough to break right off.”

Credence giggled breathlessly between gasps, then went completely still when Percival’s hand pushed inside his underwear and _squeezed_. 

" _Ohhhh_ , oh my god, Percival," Credence moaned, sucking in a sudden breath. He pushed up into the touch and he could _feel_ the answering pulse of fluid as it welled up and spilled over onto Percival's fingers.

Percival grinned, drawing his curled fist up Credence's length with a smooth stroke. "You're so ready for me, aren't you?"

"Yes!" Credence cried, "but… I want us naked. I want to feel you against me, _please_."

"That's a beautiful idea," Percival said, and promptly stepped back.

Credence watched--mouth half-open and breathing hard--as Percival lifted his dark t-shirt all the way up over his head before tossing it on the floor. Already Credence was raising his hands and reaching towards him to touch as though he were in a trance, seeing the expanse of bare, tanned skin.

"Hang on, baby," Percival laughed. "Me first, then you." 

He pushed his jeans and underwear down, thumbs hooked into the waistband and moving slowly, making a little show of it. _They have no idea who this man really is_ , Credence thought, remembering his co-workers and all their dragon talk, the things they'd warned him about on his first day. His heart clenched to think that _he_ was the one who got to see this side of the man, that Percival trusted him enough to be playful and sweet in his presence--to be _vulnerable_ , even. For a second he was worried he might cry with the force of his feeling, and without any prior warning, he knew instantly that the feeling was _love_. 

His mouth ran dry when he saw Percival's hardness spring free of the clothing with a jaunty sort of bounce, and a soft whine escaped him before he could stop it. But he didn't _need_ to stop it, and that was the beauty of it, the joy of their having found each other. There was only truth when they were together. 

"Easy now, baby," Percival said with an indulgent little smile Credence knew was tailored only for him. "All in good time. Your turn now." 

Credence didn’t hesitate, his natural shyness stripped off with the shirt already dangling off his shoulders. He could barely handle the heat of Percival’s gaze as he awkwardly fumbled his trousers down over his hips, taking the underwear along with it to save time. Frustrated with his own clumsiness, he huffed impatiently.

“Hey, let me help,” Percival said softly, kneeling in front of him and giving him a tender smile.

Credence stopped trying to undress himself, resting on his elbows and meeting the dark eyes. Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be a rush, and even the slow slide of fabric over his hips and thighs was a sensual caress. He found it hard to breathe with the way Percival looked at him once he lay there before him, completely naked, legs spread, vulnerable and knowing it was safe to be so.

Percival’s hands stroked up his legs, slowly, widening his thighs further for easy access to the warm, downy skin there. He pressed firm, lingering kisses all over it, alternating between thighs.

Credence whimpered with need, the closer that wonderful mouth came to where he needed it most.

“Shh, it’s okay. I shouldn’t tease you, not this time.” Percival placed his left hand on Credence’s belly--a warm, soothing weight grounding him, while Percival’s right hand closed around his shaft and guided it to his lips. He kissed the pink-flushed tip just the way Credence had done to him only the day before.

 _“Oh!”_ Credence jolted, fingertips digging into the bedding. He held Percival’s eyes, though he couldn’t stop his own from fluttering closed over and over, as Percival began to lick at the length of him, fingertips gathering up every drop welling from the slit. 

He tasted the first one, smiled, then used them, along with his saliva, to make his strokes move smoothly up and down the whole shaft. When Credence began panting hard and fast, he fully returned to lavishing his attention on the head, just briefly, before sliding his mouth right down the shaft so smoothly and unexpectedly, Credence cried out.

Percival hummed contentedly at the sound, flicking his eyes back up to Credence's face. This time, Credence held his gaze as best he could, mesmerized by the sight of _himself_ disappearing again and again into that same mouth that had kissed him so passionately--that had smiled secret smiles at him and breathed his name over the phone. 

"Oh, Sir, I'm gonna--" 

Percival pulled back just enough to speak, his breath skimming hot over the sensitized flesh. "We can do this however you want to do this, Credence. As many times as you like. We've got all day. But I know as far as I'm concerned, I'd love more than anything to taste you just now."

Credence could only manage to nod, gulping at the air.

The little frown of pleasure creasing Percival's brow as he returned to his ministrations was nearly too much. No--it was too much. Credence gave a sharp cry, moaning loud with his hand in Percival's hair and the pad of his thumb smoothing tenderly over one dark eyebrow. 

Percival held his hip firm in one hand to keep him steady, groaning right back in approval and encouragement as he drank Credence down. It seemed to go on and on, waves of pleasure so sharp and intense he felt winded by the time he was fully spent. 

When Percival lifted his head, he ran one shaking hand over his mouth and simply stared at Credence for a long moment. As if he were just as winded, as if the pleasure had been all _his_. 

Credence swallowed hard, trying to catch up to the moment he was in. "Percival, I… I want to make you feel good. Anything, anything you want, please…" 

Percival was hard, achingly so, he could see it. And still the man was so gentle, so patient and giving. Credence had heard so many stories, about what men would want, about how rough they'd be in getting it. And here Percival only smiled and said: "You always make me feel good, baby. I've never felt so good as I do when I'm with you."

Credence stretched out his hand and touched a tanned cheek reverently. He swallowed around a lump in his throat, a solid ball of unspoken emotions he didn’t know how to unwind. “Percival, I…”

“Yes, baby?” His tentative hand was held and a kiss pressed into the palm.

Credence fought back tears at the tenderness in Percival’s eyes. “I’m so happy when I’m with you.”

Percival rose, not letting go of his hand, and moved onto the bed, knees between Credence’s legs. He pressed the hand into the mattress beside Credence’s head, and supported himself on his forearm on the other side, framing the flushed face and smiling down at it.

Credence, even spent and momentarily exhausted, gasped with pleasure at the weight of Percival’s cock where it nudged against the crease of his thigh and hip.

“You know that’s all I want, don’t you, baby? To make you happy.” Percival’s lips were almost cool against the heat of Credence’s cheeks. “You just tell me where you want my lips, or my fingers, or any other part of me…” There was a smile in his voice for that last part.

“Can’t decide,” Credence confessed, hoping to also convey he didn’t really know what to ask for or how. “I know I want--” He bit his lower lip, but Percival licked at his mouth and made him release it, only to suck it between his own lips until Credence whimpered. Then he let go.

“What do you want, hmm? Tell me, sweet thing, and it’s yours.”

Credence shivered with pleasure when Percival began to slowly move against him, the hot weight against his hip drawing all his attention. “Want to feel you… feel you c--come on me.” He flushed deeply and turned his face sideways, but Percival’s mouth chased down his mouth and turned his face back while kissing him breathless.

When Percival’s lips disconnected from his with a wet sound, his eyes were black. “Do you have any idea how hot it is when you make yourself say something naughty, just for me?”

“It… it is?” Credence breathed.

“It sure is.” Percival moved again, causing them both to gasp. “Whenever I think I can’t get any harder, something unexpected comes out of that sweet angel mouth of yours and proves me wrong.”

“Oh, sir…” Credence gasped.

Percival struggled to reach the drawer under his bedside table and drew out a small tube. All the friction between them left him panting and Credence shaking all over, and he hurriedly squeezed a generous dose of the slick contents into his hand and reached between them.

“Are you going to…” Credence gulped.

“Not yet, baby. I wouldn’t last three seconds inside you at this point.” Percival’s sticky hand caressed his inner thighs, quickly and thoroughly coating them.

Credence had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew it would feel wonderful and, when Percival shifted until his cock lay between his slick thighs, hard up against his perineum, and closed Credence’s thighs around his cock, he groaned.

“This would be easier from behind, baby,” Percival told him breathlessly, “but I’m addicted to seeing your face when you’re enjoying yourself, and you’re going to love this.” He started to move--small thrusts, allowing them to remain pressed together from head to toe, and to look into each other’s eyes.

Credence whined, just letting the sensations wash over him--the heat of Percival’s skin, the pressure of his weight anchoring him to the bed, the slick warmth between them which increased the closer Percival came to his own release. He clutched at his sides, feeling the shifting of skin over muscle and ribs. Then he reached further, the faster Percival moved, until his hands were on the tops of his firm cheeks, fingertips clenching in desperation when he felt himself harden again between them already.

“Oh god, baby, yes, you feel _so good!_ ” Percival was panting against his neck between kisses. “So warm and yielding.... _god_ , I can’t wait to be inside you, to fill you up…”

Credence whimpered at the words, the pictures they painted, the slickness between them increasing in short bursts, and then the throbbing of the hard cock trapped between his thighs. “Want to feel you, Percival. I want you so much!”

“Oh, Credence… my sweet, sweet Credence...”

So much worship in a name he’d never liked. It was something Credence was becoming addicted to, something which was beginning to make him love the name almost as much as he loved-- “Percival!”

With a last firm thrust, and a deep groan, Percival went still between them, his whole body quaking as he came.

Credence gasped at the wet heat spreading between his legs, _felt_ some of it seeping inside him. He whimpered when Percival moved up to kiss him, the wet drag of his cock over his groin and hip almost more than he could take. The kiss went on and on and, along with the sensation of Percival’s release warm on his skin, was almost enough to make Credence come again.

When Percival met his eyes, he looked almost lost. “My beautiful angel,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

"You… you love me?" Credence whispered and his voice was so small for such big words, as if he was afraid he might break them if he spoke too loudly. 

Percival's smile was the softest, kindest thing just then. Suddenly Credence thought of that first plate of breakfast he'd been given, the one he'd eaten while perched on a crate under Percival's watchful glower. The way that hasty meal had steadily advanced into carefully covered trays set aside--drizzled honey and scattered berries, and firm, strong hands holding him steady… _loving_ him so good he felt tears spring to his eyes. 

"Yes, baby…" Percival said, "I love you more than anything. I think I loved you the second I saw you, and I really wasn't a believer in that sort of thing until then." 

Credence got his arms up around Percival's shoulders and buried his face against his neck. "I love you, too," he sobbed, shaking in the man's embrace, he was so overcome. "It… it feels so good to say it." 

"Let's say it every day, hmm?" Percival kissed his hair and held him tighter. "I have so many days without you to make up for." 

“That sounds wonderful, Percival, let’s do that.” Even through his tears, Credence was smiling.

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

After a long interlude of sniffles and smiles and soft words, the moment was finally interrupted. By the growling of Credence's stomach, of all romantic things. 

Percival pulled back to scan his face with a questioning look. "You really did have breakfast today, right? I mean, I believe you, but it sure doesn't sound like you ate anything too recently." 

Credence blushed and shrugged a little, trying to get used to the idea that lying in bed talking about food while Percival's spend still dripped off his skin was now part of his life. Something to get used to and possibly even a little spoiled by, like those covered trays on the office desk. 

"I did eat, I promise. Just… not really that much, I guess." 

"Well, certainly not enough, apparently," Percival chided. Then a slow smile crept in. "Especially not when we're in here working up an appetite, hmmm?" 

He gave Credence a gentle shake, nuzzling at his shoulder and making him giggle. "I guess you have a point," he laughed, shivering lightly at the way Percival's already darkening stubble brushed against him. He never wanted to leave this bed.

“I was going to invite you to have a shower with me,” Percival said. “But you look so cosy and comfortable.” His eyes lit up. “Don’t move!”

Credence nodded, watching with a smile as Percival climbed off the bed with a little shudder at his own stickiness, pulled a pillowcase out of the cupboard and mopped himself dry perfunctorily, then quite unashamedly walked naked out of the room. He rolled his eyes at himself for his cock’s tired twitch of interest.

It was only then that he took in the bedroom. Aside from the big, comfortable wooden bed lush with pillows and blankets in shades of blue, there was a fireplace across the room, a dresser, several lamps with gold and silver accents, and a tall potted palm in the corner by the wide window; it was a beautiful room--comfortable, masculine and elegant all in one. He blushed at how utterly distracted he’d been earlier.

The water ran for a few minutes in the bathroom, then Percival returned in a short bathrobe and with a little stack of towels and a few wet, warm face cloths on top. He sat on the edge of the bed and started to wipe at Credence’s flat stomach, taking his time cleaning him up from his sternum down to just above his knees.

Credence let it all happen with small sighs of pleasure at the hot flannel caressing and cleaning his skin. He wondered if he should feel embarrassed at having Percival clean him up like an infant, but the tender look in his eyes and the gentle care with which he ministered to him reassured him that everything was fine, comfortable… safe.

“Thank you,” Credence whispered.

Percival didn’t stop swiping at his skin--hot, wet cloths followed by dry--as he held his eyes. “I love doing this for you, baby. This and anything you need. Besides…” He winked. “I’m the one who made a mess of you.”

Credence giggled. “That’s true.”

Leaning in while sliding a flannel covered hand under Credence’s balls and making him gasp, Percival whispered, “But you’re simply irresistible.” He kissed him sweetly.

“I might have…” Credence was dazed as always after Percival’s kisses. “I might have asked you to make a mess of me.”

“Hmm, you did. That was very naughty of you.”

Flushing, Credence blinked at him, but was reassured by the heat and affection in Percival’s eyes. “Is that good?”

“Very good.” A teasing flannel covered finger nudged at Credence’s sticky hole as if to push inside, making him moan. Percival chuckled. “Not yet, baby.”

Pouting, Credence lay back, looking up at Percival a little mournfully.

“Don’t look at me like that. I need to feed you first, you know. Then… dessert.” Smiling, Percival dried his damp skin, ignoring the fact that Credence was once again half-hard as best he could. He sighed. “Not that you’re not the most appetising appetiser I’ve ever seen.”

Blushing, Credence smiled up at him, feeling a lot more comfortable on the clean, dry towel Percival had slipped beneath his hips.

“Wait here,” Percival told him and vanished to get rid of the towels. He returned to find Credence sitting up, looking for his clothes. “Oh no, you’re not getting dressed again for a good while yet.”

“Oh, but… do you have another bathrobe for me?” Credence asked.

Percival assessed him, grinned, and said, “Yes, but I have a better idea. I love to see you surrounded by my blankets and comfy like that.” He raised Credence’s legs back onto the bed, folded the loose sheet and a warm, soft blue blanket around him until only his head, neck and half his chest poked out, and picked him up.

Credence laughed all the way to the kitchen--a dark wood, cosy open area, with a living space one side of it and dining on the other, full of gleaming chrome appliances. He was deposited on the wide kitchen island, facing the stove. “Is it hygienic to sit on a kitchen surface, sir?” he asked cheekily.

“See if I care. This is home, and your cute behind gets to be on any surface I wish to put it.” Percival smiled at him and flicked a finger against the underside of his chin. “Now, I’m going to do something I’ve been wanting to do for days--I’m going to cook something just for you, and then…” He rummaged through drawers, plucked a pan and pot from their ceiling hooks, found a chopping board and then looked expectantly at Credence.

“And then?” Credence asked, holding onto the blanket and sheet to keep them closed around himself.

“Then I’m going to hand feed you to make sure you enjoy every single bite.”

Smiling happily, Credence said, “I’m sure I will, Mr. Graves! You’re the head chef.”

“Minx. Tell me,” Percival asked. “What do you enjoy more than anything else in the world?” He quickly added, laughing, when he saw the gleam in Credence’s eyes, “To eat!”

“Oh! Hmm…” Credence thought about this for a moment, then beamed. “Spaghetti with ketchup, bits of cut up sausage, and parmesan. Newt says it’s the best meal in the world.”

Percival looked horrified. “You have the head chef of Eclipse ready and willing to do your culinary bidding, and that’s what you want?” When Credence nodded eagerly, he said, “Remind me to fire Newt.”

Credence laughed, knowing he didn’t mean it. He was wise to Percival’s ways now.

It didn't take long for some water to boil as Percival scrounged around for the main components, insisting the whole while that he'd be creating something a little more worthy than noodles with _ketchup._

Even if it had taken a long time, Credence would have happily sat there and watched him work. Percival cooking at home was a very different person than Percival cooking at work, but then again, he was different alone with Credence in every possible way. 

Every so often in between stirring and sauteing, Percival would crowd in between Credence's blanket-wrapped knees to deliver kisses that more than once became as heated as the pots on the stove. Credence felt a little bereft each time the man was forced to return to his cooking, wishing that all of their shifts at Eclipse could play out this way. When he thought about it, the way things had evolved so quickly between them in just over a day, it was painful to think of returning to work and pretending they weren't head-over-heels in love. In fact, Credence didn't think he could pretend like that even for a second. 

Once the dish was ready, it was hard to imagine Percival being able to pretend, either. Almost like that first meal in the storage room at work, Credence sat perched in an odd place under his watchful eye. Only this time, Percival swirled the pasta around a fork and carefully lifted it to Credence's mouth himself, free hand cupped just underneath to catch any stray drips. 

Somehow, Credence felt almost shy about the whole thing. Despite everything they'd done together, even having Percival carefully clean him on the bed afterwards… there was something so terribly intimate about being hand fed. At his own home, he could barely get a bite to eat and each one he did get was given grudgingly. But Percival had been feeding him since the first day they'd met and now here he was preparing food himself by special request and bringing it to his very lips with nothing but love behind it.

“Thank you,” Credence said, after nearly every single bite.

To start with, Percival acknowledged it with a smile, but then he said, “You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know. Just to see you enjoying this is thanks enough.”

“What I enjoy most--” Credence stopped to take another bite, hummed around the perfectly sautéed capsicum pieces Percival had included in his ‘much better than ketchup’ tomato sauce, then chewed and swallowed.

“What do you enjoy most, baby?” Percival asked, eyes fixed on Credence’s lips.

“That _you’re_ feeding me, Percival.”

Smiling, Percival gave him another bite. “You like that a lot, don’t you--me taking care of you?”

Credence nodded. “Yes,” he breathed.

“That’s good, because I really like taking care of you.” Setting the plate aside, Percival moved close, right between Credence’s legs. “You’re such a sweet, vulnerable thing. You deserve to be taken good care of.” His hands came to rest on his thighs and he leaned in to kiss the gloss of tomato sauce off Credence’s lips. “I’d like to take care of you all the time, baby, how do you feel about that?”

Credence, still breathless from the kiss and trying to chase his lips for more, gave him a wide-eyed look. “Oh… you mean…”

Percival smiled. He cupped Credence’s jaw and stroked his chin with his thumb. “I want to wake up next to you in the morning and make you breakfast right here, before work. Then I want to keep an eye on you all day, have lunch with you, and take you home with me to cook you dinner, or take you out somewhere nice. And then…”

“And then?” Credence craned his neck to press a kiss to Percival’s cheek, noticing how his eyes fluttered closed an instant before his lips touched it. His jaw was not released.

“Then I want to take you to bed and make love to you until you’re sleepy and soft and satisfied. And then I want to hold you in my arms all night to keep bad dreams away.”

Credence sobbed a little, overcome.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to answer me right away.” Percival pulled the whole soft bundle that was a blanket-wrapped Credence close. “Think about it, please?”

“I don’t have to, Percival,” Credence murmured into his neck, sobbing again. “Yes. Yes, _please_ take care of me!”

“God, baby, you mean that?” Percival’s arms tightened around him. He sounded rather choked himself. “You’ll come live with me?”

“Yes, I will.” Credence laughed softly through his sobs. He was too happy to hold back. “I want to take care of you too, Percival. I never want you to feel lonely or sad. I’ll make you happy, I promise.”

“Credence, my love, you’re making me happy right now.” Percival pressed kisses all over Credence’s face then, his hands roaming over him through the blanket. “ _So_ happy, baby… what have I done to deserve you?”

Credence thought he should be the one asking that question, but his mouth was taken in a deep, searching kiss before he could speak, a kiss which left him too dazed to remember what he meant to question.

“Still hungry?” Percival asked breathlessly.

“No,” Credence said. “Only for your kisses, Percival, for _you!_ ”

Percival swallowed hard. “Good, baby. That’s good.” He picked him up and carried him back to the bedroom, which took far too long, because they couldn’t stop kissing on the way. “I need you even more urgently now than before, baby, what are you _doing_ to me?”

“Nothing,” Credence said, blinking his lashes innocently. He was dropped gently on the still dry and not-yet-mussed side of the bed.

“Nothing, you say?” Percival teased, undoing the cord of his bathrobe with one hand and flinging the sides of Credence’s wrap blanket apart with the other. He was hard, and so was Credence, when they moved against each other on the bed. “Does this feel like nothing?”

Giggling, Credence clung to him, “Feels like a lot, Percival. I wonder if--” He stopped and flushed deeply.

“What do you wonder?” Percival asked against the corner of his mouth, kissing and nipping at his chin while Credence composed his answer. “Baby?” he asked, gently teasing.

“I wonder if it will fit,” Credence all but whispered.

Percival closed his eyes for a moment, pressing into him hard with a groan. “It’ll fit, baby, don’t you worry about that. We’re going to go nice and slow until you can take me easily.”

“Okay,” Credence breathed, licking his kiss-swollen lips. “I’m… I’m all yours, _sir_.”

Percival’s eyes were almost black when he looked at him, one hand under his nape, the other under his left thigh. “You sure are, baby.” His voice was almost a growl.

"I'll teach you," he said, beginning to slowly kiss his way down the length of Credence's body. "I'll teach you how to be mine, how to feel good doing it." 

He paused, mouth hovering just over his cock where it lay hard and flushed against his stomach. He flicked his eyes to meet Credence's and held them for a moment, smirking at the way he bit his lip and softly groaned in tense anticipation. 

"Taking our time getting you there is going to be the best part of it all, I promise." Percival skimmed his lips then, slowly, along his entire length. Credence gave out a stuttered moan and gripped the sheets at either side of his hips, hardly believing this was how he was going to be spending his afternoon--no, his every _night_ now. He'd wanted a job and a way out, that was it, and he'd gotten so much more, more than he'd even known possible. 

"Thank you," he breathed out between hiccuping breaths and he heard Percival laugh softly down there where his lips and tongue gently tortured. 

"My sweet boy, always so polite," he murmured. "Calling me _sir_ , thanking me for every single bite. You're an absolute dream, Credence. I hope you realise I'm not ever letting you out of my sight." 

Credence clenched his eyes shut and keened at the words, at the firm, wet suction against his frenulum. "Oh please," he sobbed out, "don't… don't take your eyes off me for a second, or your hands… or… oh _god_ …" 

"I won't baby, I'm gonna make you feel so good, you go ahead and get as loud as you need to." 

With that, Percival kissed his way further down, tucking Credence's long legs up against his chest and gently rocking him back to pull one of the nearby pillows beneath his tailbone. 

"What… oh, what are you…?" Credence tried breathlessly to ask, but his words were cut short with a gasp and a moan as he felt Percival place a soft kiss right _there_. It was obscene and unheard of and Credence already wanted it to happen again and again and again. 

And it did, soft kisses growing into eager, probing licks until Credence was sweating with the shivering heat running through him. His groans became deep and full of bass as Percival's swiping tongue began to dart and curl every now and then right up inside him. He fisted his hands in the sheets tight enough to nearly tear them, moaning and rocking down to meet each tasting touch. 

Soon, fingers joined lips and tongue, gently and carefully teasing. Somehow, within only moments, Credence had opened himself to Percival with barely any resistance, hissing in pleasure at the fingers that crooked their way in and anchored deep.

Percival returned his mouth to Credence's cock, now leaking freely and begging to be seen to. As he licked and sucked, seeking out his eyes to watch the sensations twist across his face, his thrusting fingers pressed against some magic place that set Credence's whole body aching. 

"Ah! Oh _god_ ," he shouted, taking Percival at his word that he could be as free with his volume as he needed. Not that he could help it if he wanted to. 

Percival looked up again and when he spoke, his voice sounded nearly desperate. "God, I love this, baby. I love taking you apart like this." 

Raising up on his elbows, Credence arched his back and tried to reach for Percival's face at the same time, flailing helplessly in his need. "Oh, Percival… oh, I'm gonna _come._ " 

“That’s right, baby. That’s just what you’re going to do.” This time when Percival took him in deep, he barely even drew his fingers back, he just gave Credence a moment of anticipation before touching him _there_ again the very moment he swallowed around him. 

Credence cried out, and it was a mix of stunned sobs, gasps and Percival’s name. His whole body shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm, his toes curling and his fingers clenching in whatever scraps of bedding he could reach. The suction didn’t stop, nor did the pressure deep, so deep inside him, until he sucked in a reviving breath and stopped moving.

“ _Now_ you’re relaxed,” Percival told him, reaching across Credence’s limp form with a pleased but also slightly tight smile.

Credence’s eyes widened when he realised what the cause for the slight tension was… how _hard_ Percival was, his cock dragging along his hip, trailing sticky warmth over his skin. He watched him with feverish eyes as he opened the tube of lubricant again. “Please,” he urged in a whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart, you couldn’t be in more of a hurry than I am,” Percival told him, chuckling huskily. He returned to his position between Credence’s spread legs and started preparing him gently, but with shaking fingers. He warmed the salve with his own skin so it nearly melted into Credence’s stretched rim and saliva-wet hole. “Watching you come… hearing the sweet, needy sounds you make…” His voice was low and throaty. “... that was almost enough to get me there too, you know.”

“Yeah?” Credence breathed. His narrow chest was rising and falling rapidly.

Percival smirked. “Getting impatient?” He stroked his slick fingers deep into Credence, making him jolt and gasp with oversensitivity. “Almost there, baby, you’re so ready for me now.”

Whining with need, Credence could only nod, instinctively clenching around the thrusting fingers.

“God, that’s it, it has to be now,” Percival all but moaned, slicking himself up hurriedly and flinging the tube aside carelessly before lining himself up. He paused a moment. “I should take you from behind the first time, it’ll be easier.”

“No!” Credence said, too quickly, thinking of his scarred back. He softened the denial with a smile. “Please, Percival, I want to look into your eyes while you make me yours.”

“How could I say no to that?” Percival’s voice was as tender as his gaze when he slid his hands under Credence, nudging his left leg with his thigh to find a good angle and support for his knee on the mattress. He held the dark, hazy eyes as he pushed, effortlessly, through the loosened ring of muscle… so, so slowly, savouring each inch to the fullest and allowing Credence to do the same.

“Per-ci-val…” Credence whispered, his arms around the strong body which was pressing him into the bed, “... _ohh!_ ”

“Feels so good, baby… you were just made for me, and I for you,” Percival’s voice was breathless, and he paused a moment to calm down and nuzzle against Credence’s cheek.

“Yes, just for you.” Credence whispered near Percival’s ear, letting his tongue play with the lobe.

Shivering and moaning softly, Percival pushed in a little further. “You’re so relaxed, taking me so sweetly,” he praised.

“Want you so much,” Credence gasped, his legs clenching around Percival’s hips now, pulling him inside himself deeper in the process. He cried out, but it wasn’t a sound of pain.

“Oh _god_ , baby, yes!” Percival grunted, keeping still for a moment even while his limbs were trembling. Then he slowly pulled back and thrust back in, as far as he could go, and still with ease. “Perfect boy,” he moaned, repeating the motion while Credence’s arms and legs clung to him, hot breath on the side of his face and neck. “My sweet, perfect angel!”

“Oh, Percival,” Credence panted, trying to counter the thrusts, which made them feel even better, even more intense. He was growing hard again, the intimacy and tenderness of it all was almost too much. “Love you, Percival… you’re so… _ahhh_ , so good to me!”

Percival was an absolute sight, brows crushing towards each other in nearly agonized pleasure as he panted overtop of him. Credence was doing that, making this beautiful man lose control, making him moan and shiver as he welcomed every eager thrust. Caught up in the moment, he urged him on, somehow feeling his own ecstasy miraculously tensing and building up again from deep within. 

" _Perci-vaaal_ ," he crooned, clinging tight. "You feel, you f-feel so good… just… uhng just taking me like this… yes, ohhh yes, yes!" 

The face the man made then, looking down at him in something like _wonder_ was almost enough to bring him over the edge on its own. "Jesus, Credence," he groaned. "When you talk like that, saying things like that to me…" he thrust with a little _snap_ in his hips for emphasis, "when I'm so deep inside you baby, _god_ …"

He didn't know what had come over him, only that he felt so good and none of the words he'd normally dare to use could even capture just how much. Credence was breaking apart completely under Percival's expert touch, getting to someplace _raw_ with it. 

"Oh god, _sir_ … yeah, yeah… oh, _fuck_ me…" He was sobbing, the orgasm pushing up from inside him. 

That was it, the final pull that took Percival over the edge along with him. His hips stuttered hard and then stilled, cock throbbing out hard in Credence's pulsing grip. " _God_ , baby… oh _f-fuck!_ " 

The warm flood so deep inside Credence extended the orgasm he hadn’t expected so soon after the last, and he shook all over, clinging to Percival’s solid, reassuring form. Soothing, tender words washed all over him. 

“Shhh, baby. I love you. God, I want to stay inside you, just like this.” 

“Sounds… nice,” Credence managed languidly, smiling. 

“Does it?” Percival kissed his face all over, his fingers tangling in sweaty curls at the nape of Credence’s neck as he cupped the back of his head on the pillow. He kissed him, long and deep and dizzying, every movement, every shift, from either of them allowing another trickle of his fluids out of Credence’s channel, the sensation maddening for them both. But Percival didn’t withdraw until they were breathless from kissing and had to pull apart. A flood of Percival’s seed poured out then, causing Credence to shiver again. 

“Oh, Percival, I want to keep you inside,” he mewled. 

Chuckling softly, Percival stroked his cheek, then used a corner of the sheet to mop up the worst of the mess between them. “Don’t worry, baby, we’re going to do this a lot, anytime you want, in every way possible.” 

Flushing, despite everything that’s happened between them all day, Credence smiled teasingly. “I can’t wait for you to teach me everything, sir.” 

With a playful growl, Percival rolled them over so Credence was kneeling over him and giggling, and reached around to slap his bottom, delighting in the flash of interest in Credence’s eyes. “I’ve just come harder than I ever remember, baby, and there you go calling me ‘sir’ again. Give me a _little_ recovery time!” 

Take all the time you need, _sir_ ,” Credence said sweetly, rocking back and forth a little, just for fun; they were both in need of some recovery. 

Hissing, Percival stopped him with both hands on his thighs. “There’s only one thing to do with you.” 

Credence bit his lip. “What’s that?” 

Percival smirked. He didn’t say a word, he just shifted them to the edge of the bed and stood up, hands under Credence’s bare arse, and started carrying him from the room. 

Credence held on with both arms around his neck. “Where are you taking me, Percival?” 

“To get you cleaned up, and myself too. Everything except your beautiful, tempting, dirty little mouth.” 

Credence looked sheepish. “I’m sorry...” 

Percival stopped in the wide corridor, hitching him up higher again and murmuring, “Hey, I love that you’re relaxed and turned on enough with me to talk like that, baby. It drives me absolutely crazy.” 

Credence beamed. They crossed the large, luxurious green-tiled bathroom and, when they reached the shower, he let go of Percival’s neck with one hand and pulled open the door, and Percival stepped right in with him, only slowly letting him slide down to stand on his feet. 

Percival reached past him to turn on the shower, pointing it away from them both until the water was pleasant, then he aimed it at Credence, who jumped out of its way and laughed. Percival just drew him back with one hand and plucked a bottle of shampoo off a shower caddy with the other. “Turn around,” he prompted. 

Credence obeyed at once, only remembering about his back when he heard Percival’s sharp intake of breath. He tensed up, nearly sobbing when Percival’s hands landed on his shoulders with utmost tenderness. He felt the bandage from earlier in the week being drawn away and replaced, and then he felt the gentle fingers tracing his faded, older scars. 

“I knew there was something wrong in your home. Dammit, I _knew_. Did she do this to you? Your foster _mother_?” 

He spat the last word out as if it was poison which, Credence had to acknowledge, it certainly was in this case. He nodded. “I’m sorry.” His voice came out meek and ashamed. 

“Baby, no.” Percival turned him back around and drew him into his arms. “Don’t you be sorry.” He cupped the back of his head and pressed it against his neck. “This is no fault of yours. _God_ , I wish I’d made you tell me what happened the other day.” He took a few deep breaths. “That wasn’t the first time, was it?” 

“No,” Credence mumbled against his skin. “She punishes me regularly.” 

"She calls this punishment?” Percival’s voice was like ice. “What could _you_ possibly ever do that justified this, you absolute angel?” With each word, the ice melted a little, and by the time he breathed ‘angel’, his voice was thick with emotion. 

“There are always different reasons. I… I needed work to get away. I have no money, and I’ve been pretending to still look for a job, so she couldn’t take my earnings away, and--” Credence sobbed. 

“Shhh, I understand. No more need to talk about it now. Let me just hold you, baby. She’ll never lay a hand on you again.” 

Credence simply cried in his arms for a long while under the warm spray, letting Percival croon soft noises of reassurance. It felt good to be honest, to have the relief of Percival finally knowing, even as much as it shamed him to admit. 

He thought again of how he'd be coming to live with Percival, hardly believing it was all real and he was finally on the brink of freedom. 

"I love you," he sobbed and Percival just gently rocked him in his arms, shushing quietly. 

"Thank God I found you," Percival finally said. "I already can't even imagine going without you, but to think _that's_ where you've been all this time… I'm so proud of you for working so hard to get out of there. For coming to me." 

Credence pulled back to look in his face, wiping his eyes against the rivulets of water running down out of his hair. "I can't believe it's over. I'm… I'm really coming to live with you?" 

Percival smiled and finally turned him around to begin massaging the shampoo into his hair. "Yes baby," Percival answered. "You're finally coming home." 

After the shower--wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel and being treated more tenderly now than anything that had come before--Credence snuggled against Percival's collarbone and tried to muster up one last bit of bravery. 

"I… l'll need to go back to the church one more time at least," he said. 

  
  
_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

"Baby, I understand that you need to go back and get your things, but you can do that _any_ time." 

Credence could barely take the worried frown on Percival's face, and feeling at a loss over what to do, he simply hugged him for it. 

"I know," he said, "but I'd much rather just go tonight and get it done with. I mean, if I don't, it will just hang over me. And I need to say goodbye to my sister." 

Sighing, Percival rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He was thinking, that much was clear, but more importantly, he was at least listening. Watching him, Credence realised just how completely unused to being listened to he really was. The urge to apologise presented itself, but he didn't give into it just yet.

"Please," he added, rubbing his hand across Percival's shoulders in an effort to soothe his tension. It was closer to apology, but still not quite. "I'll be okay. I'll just go in quickly and I won't even talk with ma, just Modesty. And then I'll be right back here with you, forever this time."

Percival smiled a little at that and leaned in to give Credence a kiss. "I like the sound of that," he said. Then he sighed again. "I know you're right, and this is what makes sense, it's just that I can't stand the thought of you in there for even a second now that I know what's been going on for you in there." 

He pulled Credence tighter into his arms and breathed in the smell of his damp curls. "I don't ever want you in any sort of danger, or even discomfort. Not if I have anything to say about it… and I _do_. How about if I wait somewhere for you, right nearby?"

Not wanting to admit just how relieved he was about that offer, in case it worried Percival even more, Credence just murmured into his shoulder, “That would be nice.”

***

Decision made, and with the high likelihood of Mary Lou Barebone busily trying to convert sinners on the steps of some public building or other, Percival dropped Credence off on the nearest corner from the church about an hour later.

“I still think I should go in with you,” he said, even while double-parking dangerously, with more than one driver behind him tooting their horn and yelling out their window.

Credence smiled at him. “Modesty will just be home from school, and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so. Besides, you can’t park here.”

Sighing and glaring in the rear view mirror, Percival relented. “Be quick, baby. I’ll be circling the block and I’ll be right back here.”

“I will be.” Credence quickly kissed his cheek and got out, watching for a moment as Percival pulled back out into the traffic. Then he took a deep breath and walked to the church.

His foster mother wasn’t there, thankfully, and Chastity was on her way out just as he arrived.

“Good, you’re here. I need to buy some milk. You can watch over Modesty,” was all she said by way of a greeting before leaving. 

Credence didn’t protest, knowing it would be useless and, besides, he didn’t want Chastity to be there while he talked to Modesty.

Modesty was sitting in her room with her school books open, knowing she had to study as soon as she got home, before ma gave her other ‘more important’ tasks to do. “Credence!” she exclaimed. “How come you’re home? You’ve been away all day lately.” She sounded mildly chiding.

Credence crouched down beside her, patting her hair. “Modesty, listen, I don’t have much time. I’ve found… I’ve found work, and somewhere to live. I just came home to get my things and say goodbye to you.”

Modesty stared at him for a moment, then threw her thin arms around his neck. “Please don’t leave, Credence.”

He hugged her and closed his eyes to hold in his tears. This was the worst part; he had expected it to be. Almost the worst part, as he found out a moment later.

“What this about leaving?” came an all-too-familiar icy voice from the doorway behind them, and Modesty shrank away from him in fear, staring over his shoulder.

Credence felt his heart turn to stone. He tried desperately to channel some of Percival’s courage to turn around and face his tormentor, but that was something he had never been able to do without feeling sick to his very core. He took a deep breath and tried, he really did, but she was there, right in front of him, and the flat of her hand had hit his right cheek with such venom, he lost his balance and fell hard on his knees.

“Get up, you ungrateful wretch,” Mary Lou demanded.

“Ma--”

“Up!”

He rose shakily to his feet, and her fingers gripped his upper arm painfully hard and hauled him along with her.

Modesty was crying, pleading with her not to hurt him, but Credence barely heard her thin voice through a rushing sound in his ears, and Mary Lou paid no attention to her.

His room was right across from Modesty’s, and he fell with the force of the shove Mary Lou gave him.

“You think you’re going to leave, do you?” she asked. “I can’t imagine what kind of job you got yourself, but whatever unchristian work you’ve found, you’ll use it to start paying me back for all the years I’ve cared for you.”

Credence couldn’t help it, he snorted. “ _Cared_ for me?” He half laughed, half coughed, and Mary Lou glared down at him.

“You’ll leave this church when I say so and not a day sooner,” she told him, and then she slammed the door shut between them, turning the key she kept in her possession from the outside.

Credence tried to get control of his breathing. It would be okay, he told himself. Percival knew where he was, but… if it took too long, he’d get so worried. Then it suddenly came to him… his phone! He scrambled across the room to the bed, then peeled back the loose board with his nails. He switched it on. It was pitifully low on battery, but he sent a frantic text to Percival.

_Ma locked me in please help!_

The answering text came only seconds after he'd hit send. 

_I'm coming_

Credence sat down hard at the edge of his thin mattress, breathing deep and running his hands through his hair. He still smelled of Percival's shower gel and he held onto that, along with the knowledge that the man himself was coming to essentially save him. 

He hadn't wanted it to happen like this, hadn't wanted ma to know anything about Percival and the _sinful_ bond between them. Now there was something almost _eager_ in him, remembering the way Percival had come to his defense at work with Jason. Mary Lou was downstairs with no idea how she was about to get the comeuppance of her life, and now that it had come to this, Credence didn't care anymore _what_ she knew about him. About _them_. 

After slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans, he grabbed his charger and the few articles of clothing in the drawer covering it. He hastily shoved it all into his frayed backpack, tossing a paperback Stephen King novel he'd been hiding close to five years in with it for good measure. And that was it--everything he owned in the world that he might care to keep. Well, every _material_ thing. The only thing he really intended to keep and hang onto was Percival himself. 

And after only a few minutes of pacing, there he was. Credence heard the knocking of the front door downstairs and rushed to his own door, pressing his ear against it to listen and straining as if he could join Percival straight through the wood. They'd been apart only half an hour or so and already it felt like it had been years. His heart was pounding, wondering what would happen now and how bad it would be. 

He heard his mother opening the loudly creaking church door and asking, "Yes? Can I help you?" in a cautiously questioning tone. 

"Oh, please… thank God you answered," Percival's voice rang out and Credence frowned, confused by the desperate helplessness of the man's tone. He'd been expecting fury, shouts and bravado. Knowing he could trust Percival completely nonetheless, he listened on. 

"I'm sorry… " Mary Lou said, "but what is this? What's the matter?" 

"I need help," Percival answered. "I need to speak with you, or someone…. The Lord is testing me… please, tell me it's not too late." 

Even so many feet above, Credence could just _feel_ Mary Lou's smug satisfaction and he triumphed silently. Percival wasn't only impressive and commanding, he was _clever_ , too. 

"Ohh," she sighed, all phoney sympathy. "Of course! Please, do come in." 

The shuffling of steps and the echo of the closing door followed. And then: 

"I knew this was exactly where I needed to be," Percival said, only now his voice was strong and firm, pitched for Credence's hearing. 

"You see, you have something in here that belongs to _me_."

“What? What are you talking about? _Get out!_ ”

Credence was panting, both because of Percival’s possessive claim and in sheer anticipation of what might happen next. He’d never heard Mary Lou sound so panicked and scared.

“You can tell me where you’ve locked him up, or I can rip every door in this place off its hinges. Make a choice, while I still give you one.” Percival’s voice was low and dangerous.

“That’s what you’re here for? That useless, deviant boy? I might have known!” Mary Lou tried to laugh, but she was too audibly scared to make it work and it came out as little more than a croak.

“You don’t get to talk that way about Credence. In fact, you don’t get to say another word about him in my presence. You’re not worthy of crawling along the ground he walks on.” The way Percival spoke would have frozen a roaring fire.

And yet, Credence found it started one inside him, because this was in defence of him, for worry about him... for the love of him. “I’m up here!” he yelled and started pounding on the door.

“Coming, Credence,” Percival called out.

“No!” screamed Mary Lou. “Don’t you dare.”

Then there were footsteps on the stairs--determined ones, sounding as if they were taking two or three steps at a time, followed by the hurried clacking of square heels trying to catch up.

“If you think I’m giving you the key--” she screeched.

Percival scoffed. “I don’t need a key from you, or anything else, unless you’d care to drop dead on the spot, of course, that would be a pleasant surprise.”

Credence covered his mouth, then realised it no longer mattered if anyone heard him laugh under this roof. “In here, Percival, second door on the left.”

“Get away from there!” Mary Lou roared.

She was immediately drowned out by Percival’s shout. “Stand back, darling. Well back.”

Credence obeyed, taking several steps sideways. “Go ahead!” he called out.

The door shook with the impact of a very determined dragon, several times, the sound of slowly giving hinges interspersed with Mary Lou’s irate yells.

“I’ll call the police!” she threatened.

“Please do. There’s plenty they need to know about what goes on in this place,” Percival told her, a moment before the door swung into the room with enough force to hit the wall behind it.

Credence flew into his arms. “Percival!” he sighed.

“Oh, baby, it’s all right now. I’ve got you. She’ll never touch you again.” Percival’s hands roamed over him, making sure he was okay.

“I’m fine. Perfect, now,” Credence assured him, giving him a smile.

“Watch out!” came a small, fearful, but determined voice.

Percival swung Credence out of the open doorway just as Mary Lou came charging in with a rod, all too familiar to Credence, held high above her head. She went right past them and tripped, howling when an unpleasant cracking sound preceded the thud of her hitting the floor knees first.

Credence sucked in a breath, Modesty came running into the room and hugged what she could of him desperately, and Percival, his arms still around him, looked down at Mary Lou coldly.

“I’ve broken my ankle,” she wailed. 

“Yes, I suspect so,” Percival agreed pleasantly.

“Are you okay, Credence?” Modesty asked, looking up.

“I’m fine.” Credence stroked over her hair, giving her a reassuring smile.

She beamed at him, then looked up at Percival with wide, curious eyes. “Thank you for rescuing my brother, mister.”

Credence felt a lump in his throat. “Yes, Sir Percival, thank you so much.” He met Percival’s eyes, and it was clear they both had to remind themselves they were not alone right then.

“That was my absolute pleasure.” Percival smiled. He leaned down towards Modesty. “Nice to meet you, Modesty,” he said.

“You know me?” she asked, amazed. “Are you really a knight?” When Percival just grinned at her, she asked, “Are you going to rescue me too?”

Credence bit his lip. He met Percival’s eyes again.

“Well, I think I’d better.”

***

Percival had called the police before he called an ambulance. They’d left Mary Lou howling upstairs while they sat waiting downstairs, and now they were giving an account of the day’s events, along with a full account of her idea of foster care.

Percival stood behind Credence’s chair, his hands warm, safe and grounding on his shoulders as he told the police about his punishments over the years, and how Mary Lou had finally locked him up to keep him from leaving. He added that he was extremely worried about Modesty now and feared Mary Lou would take her anger at him out on her.

Chastity, who had returned at the same time the ambulance had arrived, surprised everyone by supporting all that was said and admitting that she had been too scared to speak up for herself or either of her siblings over the years. All she wanted to know was whether she could please get help to find a job and live somewhere else.

“Social Welfare will certainly need to take charge here,” declared the policewoman taking notes. “It’s a good thing that’s easier in foster care cases, and with only one of you being underage.”

Modesty spoke up. “Will I never see my brother again?” She hadn’t left Credence’s side, and now she climbed onto his lap and held on to him.

“Well, you see…” the policewoman started awkwardly.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Percival chimed in. “I believe there’s a solution that would work out well for everyone.” 

Everyone present looked to Percival in expectation, but Percival himself spoke directly to Credence. 

"I hadn't gotten around to even telling you this, but I have a sister," he said. "She's been married a few years and they've been childless unfortunately so far. But recently, I spoke with her and she mentioned a desire to potentially foster a little girl. She and her husband are quite well off and Credence would obviously be able to stay in contact and see her as often as they both wish. It seems ideal, really." 

Modesty's eyes had grown wide and hopeful, and she looked to the policewoman as though the decision were up to her right there and then. 

"I'm… I'm sure Social Welfare will be happy to take that into consideration, as long as everything's arranged through the proper channels, of course." 

Credence looked to Percival and held his eyes, hoping to convey everything he was feeling, the depth of his appreciation and his love. The difference between his life before Percival and his life _now_ was staggering. And knowing that it wasn't only himself who would benefit from this wonderful man, but his sisters, too… he could hardly bear how fortunate he felt. 

"Modesty can stay here with me while Social Welfare sorts us out, if that's okay," Chastity said. "I mean, if it's just for a night or two. I'm old enough to look after her." 

The policewoman nodded slowly. "I think that's acceptable in the meantime. We'll send someone in the morning to begin making proper arrangements." 

She looked around at the rest of them. "I think that's just about everything we need for now. You folks take care and we'll keep you notified of all further developments." 

"Thank you, officer, " Percival said warmly and Credence only nodded his agreement, already feeling nearly fatigued with all the excitement. 

***

They left Chastity and Modesty at the church with another round of goodbyes. Modesty was tearful as expected, but easily reassured now that Credence's leaving had yielded such a happy ending for everyone. Chastity, on the other hand, stood cautiously appraising Percival throughout the whole emotional scene. When Credence went to hug her farewell, she surprised him by returning his embrace fiercely and nodding quickly in Percival's direction while the man's back was turned. 

"You did well here," she whispered. "With him. I mean… if you have to be _that way_ , you could do much worse." 

Credence could hardly believe his ears, but he smiled and hugged her back just as hard. It was the most charitable thing he'd ever heard her say, and something about that made him more optimistic than almost anything else that had happened that day.

Percival's car was parked a block away, and once they'd returned to it and were alone again, Credence had crawled nearly halfway into his lap before the doors had finished shutting.

He kissed his face, his lips, his neck--nuzzling against the warm skin above his collar and sighing deeply. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he said. "You were… oh, Percival you were amazing."

Credence leaned back just enough to catch Percival's glittering eyes, staying close enough to let his lashes brush against the man's cheek like butterfly wings. "Please take me _home_ ," he breathed. "Take me home and have your wicked way with me." 

"Baby," Percival told him, "I don't want to leave one spot in that whole house where I haven't made love to you." He turned his face and caught Credence in a scalding kiss before relinquishing him once again. "Not even the kitchen island."

This put an unholy gleam into Credence’s eyes which made it essential to get home immediately.

Percival drove as fast as it was safe to do, and they made it in record time, silently cursing the fact that they weren’t alone in the elevator. Once inside the penthouse, Credence’s backpack was tossed in one direction, and their jackets in the other, followed by whatever random items of clothing they managed to tug off each other between frantic kisses.

Credence, to Percival’s amusement, steered them both towards the kitchen. They didn’t bother with any ceiling lights, just hurriedly flicking on the small light above the stove, which provided about as much illumination as a large candle.

Percival backed Credence against the kitchen island, fumbling his pants open. “So you got turned on by my little rescue mission, hmm, baby?”

“Oh yes, sir, you were so…” Credence stole a kiss, took a moment to refocus, and went on in a gasp, “magnificent!” He swallowed. “So fierce and brave and... _chivalrous!_ ”

Chuckling low and deep, Percival yanked the fabric down over Credence’s hips, and his hand slid inside his underwear. He groaned when he found him hard and leaking already. “Go on,” he prompted, with a slow stroke along his entire length. “I love it when you talk like that about me.”

Credence’s head fell back. He moaned, struggling for words. “When you said… _uhhh_ … when… you said you came for something that belongs… oh _god!_ ” The grip around him was firm and unrelenting, taking his breath away as effectively as if it had been around his throat.

Percival helpfully suggested, “Something that belongs to _me_?” He squeezed, then his palm slid over the tip with unexpected tenderness, spreading the gush of fluid seeping from it.

“Yes!” Credence gasped out, clutching onto the wood behind him with a white-knuckled grip. “Did you… did you mean that?”

“That you belong to me?” Percival, without letting go, used his free hand to pull Credence forward, then moved it down over his underwear and grabbed his left arse cheek hard. “Yeah, I meant it, baby. You’re mine, all mine!” His voice was little more than a growl. ”No one else gets to lay a finger on you, never again.”

Credence whimpered, rocking helplessly back and forth between Percival’s hands a few times, before focussing on getting Percival’s jeans undone and pulling and tearing them down. “Please… please, let me…”

“Anything you want, baby.” Percival lost his grip when Credence pulled him free, and it was his turn to clutch onto the kitchen island when Credence slid down to his knees and leaned forward, taking him in as deep as he could manage and nearly choking himself. “God, _baby_ , be careful, don’t… _fuck_ … don’t hurt yourself!”

Credence mumbled something around him that sounded like, “‘m fine” and only made even more of an effort.

Percival stood leaning over him, palms flat on the smooth surface, and let Credence worship him for as long as he could stand it. “Stop, baby, please stop. I need to be inside you now!”

Credence pulled off at once, looking up at him with eager, shining eyes. He swayed when he tried to stand up, and Percival helped him up and pulled him in for a long breath-stealing, salty kiss.

“Need to find something… fast.” Percival spotted a bottle of extra virgin olive oil just barely within reach and opened it, giving Credence a worried look. “I’m not sure about this.”

“Please, Percival, it’ll be okay.” Credence’s fingers were on his face, caressing his skin tenderly, while he pleaded with his eyes. He smiled and started to turn towards the counter, peering teasingly back over his shoulder while pushing what was left of his clothes well down past his hips..“This is easier, you said?”

“ _Fuck_.” Percival swallowed, eyes darting between Credence’s flushed face and the perfectly inviting way he pushed his arse out towards him. “You’re going to kill me, baby… okay…” He took a deep breath. “We can make this work.” 

He slicked his fingers up and pet them slowly between Credence's cheeks, and when one oiled fingertip slipped easily inside him they both moaned. 

"God, baby," Percival groaned. "You're still… from before. You're practically ready for me." 

Credence shivered under his touch, pushing back to seek out Percival's probing fingers and impatiently coax them further in. "I don't know what you've done to me, Percival," he breathed out between needy whimpers, "but I'm _always_ ready for you. I've been rea- I've been ready since you first stood like this behind me to do me up." He shuddered out a gasp as Percival stroked against that _spot_ , biting gently at the nape of his neck as he did. "And now I want you to _un_ do me, Percival." 

" _Baby_ …" It was all Percival could manage, gone panting and desperate. Credence glanced down between his spread legs to see that he'd begun to drip--a steady, clear thread swaying tenuously before pattering to the floor. He knew Percival had seen it too, hearing the way he hissed in a breath and softly moaned on the exhale. 

Credence jolted out a moan of his own when he felt Percival nudging at his entrance, blunt and hot. He arched his back and presented himself with as much eager accommodation as he could, just as urgent to have the man inside him again. He was still tender from their time earlier, deliciously so, and when Percival slid himself steadily in, Credence felt close to crying with how good it was. _This_ was what it felt like to come home. 

"I'm not gonna last long, sweetheart," Percival panted into the space above his shoulder before biting gently down.

If he hadn't said it, Credence would've had to himself. Already that pressure was building with each one of Percival's thrusts, tightening up and getting ready to uncoil. The man had charged into the church and told his mother he _belonged_ to him, and every inch of him burned to give Percival what was rightfully his. He wanted to be claimed by him, in every way possible.

" _Please_ ," he whined, lacing his fingers with Percival's over one hip and rocking back to meet the speeding thrusts. Little guttural half-shouts left his open mouth at the feeling of Percival making a place for himself right _inside_ him. "I… _unhh hh-_ I love to feel you come inside me, _sir_. I love it when you fu- fill me _up_." 

His own cock pulsed and spattered out against the dark wood of the counter at the sound of Percival's nearly surprised shout. His body gripped and spasmed tight around him as the man came, filling him to spilling over just as he'd begged. 

For a long moment, they just clung together panting, still bent over the kitchen island with Percival's arms wrapped around him.

Credence wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to move again, and he was as limp as a cloth doll when Percival eventually turned him in his arms and pulled him close. He sighed against his neck, smiling. “Thank you, Sir Percival.”

Percival chuckled softly. “I’ve never been thanked for anything more wholeheartedly given.” 

Getting ready for bed together was like something out of a dream, somehow even more than anything else about the day Credence had had. 

Standing next to each other over the bathroom sink, Credence could barely refrain from grinning around his toothbrush. The simple domesticity of it all was driving the point home, giving him a taste of what his life was going to be now.

As they lay in bed curled together in a sighing tangle, Credence dressed in a pair of Percival's too-big pajamas, he thought about the texts and soon enough, the phone calls that had essentially started all this.

“You have no idea how I’ve longed to hold you like this, each night we were on the phone together,” Percival murmured into his hair as if reading his mind.

Credence smiled. “Me too.” He cuddled even closer. “Please, don’t ever let go of me again.”

Percival’s arms tightened. “Not a chance, baby. You’re mine forever.”

Before they both drifted off into wonderful dreams, they sealed that promise with a sleepy kiss.

EPILOGUE

The first day Credence walked into the kitchen with Percival’s protective arm around him, Newt, Jacob, and the rest of Eclipse’s staff, had very nearly passed out with shock. But things soon changed. 

It was as if someone had released all the pressure from the busy kitchen, and a little more of it evaporated with every smile and long look exchanged between their mascot and The Dragon. The former certainly proved worthy of his title, while the latter reserved any fire spewing for very rare and special occasions.

Jacob and Newt were over the moon about the fact that Credence was no longer at Mary Lou’s mercy, and his obvious happiness pleased them even more.

Whenever possible, and on most of their days off, Percival took Credence to see Modesty, who was thriving in his sister’s home and being spoiled with love, attention, and a kitten she insisted on naming Percival, much to the amusement of Credence and Percival’s sister.

Credence, however, was being spoiled more than he ever could have conceived of. After finding a wonderful home for Modesty, and ensuring he could see her anytime, Percival surprised Credence by getting Chastity a job on another shift.

After that, all his focus was on making Credence happy, and it was as Jacob had told Credence on his first day: Percival Graves expected one hundred percent from everyone, but he himself gave any undertaking two hundred percent.

The End


End file.
